Author's Note: PLEASE READ. I should talk; I always skip the Author's Notes. Okay, this was originally supposed to be a single-chapter, but I couldn't help myself, so just consider it one story. This story draws from both the book and the movie. If you hadn't noticed, I referred to the scene in the movie where Legolas tells Boromir who Aragorn is. However, then I went back to the book, because it is really Elrond who decides who is going to be in the Fellowship. As of yet, most don't have a clue about anything, and they don't know each other very well. By the way, unless you have a very good memory it may be helpful to go back and skim Chapter One, because this is, after all, a continuation of that.
Disclaimer: Tolkien created Middle-Earth, and we're very glad he did. However from time to time, our minds are set free to roam in it, and our imaginations run wild. Then strange things happen. We write these things down, and post them on fan fiction for you to enjoy.
Many Meetings
Continued and Concluded
"Does anyone want to proofread my book?"
Bilbo repeated the question, glancing around the room. Frodo and Sam were deep in conversation with that wood elf from the Council, and Merry, Pippin, and Gimli were still playing Pel Palan. As for Aragorn and Gandalf, Bilbo could barely see them for the smoke that surrounded both their chairs. That left only Boromir, the man from Gondor. Bilbo spotted Boromir over in the farthest corner of the room, standing as if he was trying to blend in with the woodwork. Although not at all intimidated by the man, Bilbo knew that Boromir was a little in awe of him and of hobbits in general. And no wonder, for there was little else but men, men, and more men in the lands to the South, unless you counted the Orcs, which Bilbo did not.
*Orcs are probably the only other race Boromir had ever met, before he came here,* Bilbo thought. It was probably quite overwhelming. Besides the elves, who were legendary in their own right, there were hobbits, dwarves, a wizard, and a Ranger.
*And a very strange Ranger, at that. He's more an Elf than a Man. I hope that Boromir and the Dunadan will be friends, though.*
The last thought sprang from a conversation he had had with Elrond earlier that day. Although Elrond had not told him outright, he had casually mentioned who he was considering to accompany Frodo. Bilbo was out of the picture, but he knew that Gandalf surely would be going, and Boromir was going that way anyway. Aragorn would be going with Boromir to Minas Tirith, for he had said so at the Council. Bilbo was not blinder than anyone else, and he had not failed to notice the friction between the two men. And he had not been the only one to wonder how exactly they were planning to overthrow Sauron together, when they could barely shake hands. Bilbo harrumphed softly to himself. Dunadan and Boromir had appeared friendly enough at the Council, but afterwards had studiously avoided each other's presence. Bilbo could count on his fingers the number of phrases the two had between them. The two-month stay in Rivendell had done little to improve their relationship, and besides, Dunadan had been traveling most of the time. In light of these facts, Bilbo felt that Boromir needed to be drawn into the circle, so he approached the man cautiously.
"Do you want to proofread my book for me?"
Boromir looked startled; he stared down at the hobbit in surprise.
"You're writing a book?"
"Yes. There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins, would you care to read it?" Holding up the book, Bilbo beckoned him to take a seat.
"Does it have anything to do with thieving, stealing, pickpockets, or masked raiders?" Boromir asked tentatively, still riveted to his corner.
"Not much," Bilbo replied, smiling.
Boromir smiled back with relief. "Thank goodness." He came to sit down in the chair, and Bilbo pulled up a small footstool beside him and stood on it, looking to see if anyone was paying attention.
"Boromir is going to proofread my book," he shouted loudly enough to be heard over the noise, "Would you mind playing that game somewhere else?"
Pippin looked up from the game. "Oh! Boromir hasn't told a story yet, has he? Come on, Merry, let's finish this later."
Putting the playing pieces aside, Merry and Pippin came over, followed by Gimli. Sam, Frodo, and Legolas joined them to form a semi- circle around Boromir's chair. Suddenly nervous, Boromir was getting second thoughts about reading when Gandalf and Aragorn halted their contest to come over. Aragorn said something like, "This should be interesting." And he probably meant it. But to Boromir's suspicious mind it sounded derisive and condescending. He struggled to control the sudden frustration that welled up within him. The Ranger always seemed to do everything in his power to make sure that Boromir knew he was still in second place. Boromir grimaced; this was the man who was going to accompany him to Minas Tirith? He tried not to think of what his father's reaction would be when he came marching home with the heir of Isildur in tow. The REAL King of Gondor.
*My, Boromir, I know we need help, but this is not exactly what I was expecting…*
"Boromir?"
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Boromir opened to the first page. He cleared his throat.
"Chapter One. Concerning Hobbits. In a hole in the ground-"
"Skip that part," Bilbo interrupted, "I'm not quite finished with it. Go to Chapter Nine."
"Alright," slightly bemused, Boromir leafed through the pages. "Chapter Nine. Barrels Out of Bond," Raising an eyebrow at the title, he continued, "The day after the battle with the spiders, Bilbo and the dwarves made one last despairing effort to find a way out, before they died of hunger and thirst. They got up and staggered on in the direction of which eight to thirteen of them guessed to be the one in which the path lay. But they never found out if they were right. Such day as there ever was in the forest was fading once more into the blackness of night, when suddenly out sprang the light of many torches all round them, like hundreds of red stars. Out leapt the woodelves with their bows and spears and called the dwarves to halt. There was no thought of a fight. Even in the dwarves had not been in such a state that they were actually glad to be captured, their small knives, the only weapons they had, would have been of no use against the arrows of the elves-"
Gimli cleared his throat, interrupting Boromir. "Excuse me, but I think you need to correct that part, Master Bilbo."
"What?" Bilbo blinked, looking slightly confused. "What part?"
"About the knives. They weren't small at all. They were large and deadly weapons."
"To a feeble dwarf, perhaps they were," Legolas mumbled. "They seemed pretty small to me."
Sam turned to face him, a look of surprise on his face. "You were there?"
"Of course he wasn't!" Gimli harrumphed from Sam's left. "He's only repeating what he's heard."
Indignantly, Legolas glared at the dwarf. "Who are you to say I was or wasn't there? You weren't there, for certain! You were barely two hundred!"
"Barely two hundred? I'm not even fifty yet!" Pippin squealed in disbelief.
"But Legolas," Sam furrowed his brown in confusion, "How could he only be 200 when you said he was a gno-"
"Never mind what I said," Legolas cut him off. "He wasn't there and I was, and everything happened just like Bilbo wrote it."
Boromir sat with the book in his lap, watching the exchange in silence. It was slightly confusing, and he had no idea what the book was about, or who the dwarves were, or why they were in the forest at all. He wished that Bilbo had let him start at the beginning.
"Shall I finish?" Boromir asked abruptly, cutting short the argument.
Bilbo nodded, and Legolas and Gimli fell silent, although the dwarf was still far from satisfied with the text. Boromir began again.
"The arrows of the elves that could hit a bird's eye in the dark. So they simply stopped dead and sat down and waited." He looked up at Bilbo, pointing at a blank space on the page. "What goes here?"
Bilbo came to look over his shoulder, peering through the rim of his glasses. "Oh, that's just a little something about the Ring that I haven't written yet. You can skip it."
Shrugging, Boromir read, "Bilbo had all he could do to keep up with the torches, for the elves were making the dwarves go as fast as ever they could, sick and weary as they were. The king-"
"Now wait a minute." This time it was Legolas who interrupted. "First of all, they weren't sick and weary, they were fat and lazy. They were fat from barging into our feasts and eating our food and then running off. So if you want to say they were sick and weary, at least say they were sick from stolen food, and they were weary from running on a full stomach." The Elf studiously ignored the warning look Aragorn was giving him, instead choosing to direct his comment toward Boromir. "You're making it sound like they were slave drivers. You should rephrase that."
Uncomfortable under the Elf's gaze, Boromir was making a talk-to-Bilbo-about-it face, when Gimli spoke up again.
"Whatever happened to, 'Everything happened just like Bilbo wrote it?" he reminded Legolas, imitating the Elf's voice as he quoted him. Gimli's voice being naturally deep and gruff, it sounded very strange, and the hobbits giggled.
Ignoring them, Legolas turned a cold stare on Gimli. "You are Gloin's son, Gimli right?"
Gimli smiled cheekily in response. "How did you guess?"
"You have his face," came the flat answer. "And the mouth that goes with it."
Gimli growled, and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
*Oh dear,* he thought. *Silly of me, he's a wood elf; of course he would have been there or heard about it. Gloin's son and Thranduil's heir in the same room, and then I have to bring up their history! And to think I was trying to bring everyone together.*
"How would you know about my father's face? I don't believe we ever met."
"Your father met my father and I was there. That was after we paid the dwarves to ruin our palace."
"Ruin? After you elves moved in, there wasn't anything left to ruin! And the dwarves never got paid for their work anyway!"
Bilbo sighed. *Elves and dwarves. They really are good people…as long as you keep them apart. I hope Boromir isn't getting the wrong idea about them.* He glanced up at Boromir, who was starting to look very annoyed. *I guess he is.*
"And to think," Gimli sighed wistfully. "If you wood elves weren't so selfish about your gold, we two might have been friends."
"It was not the elves who started the disagreement," Legolas protested.
"I have not heard that it was the dwarves who-"
"I have heard both," Gandalf interrupted sternly. "And I have heard quite enough from you two tonight. If we went into all the grievances between elves and dwarves, we would be here for a lifetime. So if you two, Legolas and Gimli, could at least PRETEND to be friends, we can have a little PEACE and QUIET, and perhaps Boromir will finish his story?" Glaring meaningfully at both of them, Gandalf settled back into his chair. Although none of the others knew, Legolas and Gimli were being considered as part of the Fellowship that would accompany Frodo on his journey to destroy the Ring. In fact, it was Gandalf himself who had recommended Gimli, and Aragorn who had suggested sending Legolas. They had approached Elrond at exactly the same time, and while the Elf Lord knew well the animosity between the Thranduil and the dwarves, he also valued the opinions of Aragorn and Gandalf. Reluctant to make a decision so swiftly, Elrond had promised to consider both nominations. Gandalf sighed, puffing on his pipe. If Legolas and Gimli could not even talk to each other for thirty seconds without arguing, how would they ever last the months, perhaps years it would take to complete the Quest?
*If only they could forget about that little incident in Mirkwood…*
Gandalf believed that Gimli tried very, very hard to avoid fighting with Legolas. He also knew that Legolas did not try nearly as hard as he could, and was way too fond of arguing to be totally guiltless of causing trouble. He was a relatively young Elf, largely devoid of anything related to prudence, but filled to overflowing with every kind of mischief. Gimli, on the other hand, was middle-aged, by dwarven standards, and more mature than most other dwarves of his age were. Besides, his father was Gloin, a very respectable and honorable dwarf. Patience and Prudence were two qualities that seemed to elude the dwarven race, but Gloin seemed to have developed both over the years, and passed them on to his son. All of these facts had culminated in Gandalf's decision to suggest Gimli as a member of the Fellowship.
He watched the dwarf from under hooded eyes, as Boromir continued to read. Several times Gimli shifted uncomfortably, as if wanting to suggest an improvement, but then remembering Gandalf's reprimand he bit his tongue and waited. Boromir's reading was becoming slower and more hesitant, as if he was beginning to lose his focus. They endured this for a while in silence, but the hobbits soon began to yawn, and the dwarf's beard sank lower and lower upon his chest, and Legolas' eyes grew distant and hazy.
*He's asleep.* Aragorn thought with a smirk. Struggling to keep his own eyes open, he shifted his position. *Sleeping with your eyes open can be very convenient sometimes, Legolas. You must be tired out from devising all those insults to poor Gimli. Very immature of you to argue over such nonsense, I thought you were above all that.*
Aragorn sincerely believed that Legolas tried very, very hard to avoid fighting with Gimli. He also knew that dwarves could be very hard to get along with, especially when they interrupted your games and started changing the rules…
Aragorn thought Legolas more mature than most elves his age; he was well trained in the art of the blade, and deadly with the bow. Growing up a prince in Mirkwood had made him more responsible, serious, and commanding; Aragorn remembered well the first time Legolas had visited Imladris, and how disgusted he had been at the 'pampered' life that Elladan and Elrohir lived, in comparison to his own. He liked to call them the two 'pink daisies' and often avoided their company, preferring to spend his time with Aragorn and the Rangers. Only a few years before, the children of Elrond had lost their mother to the Sea, and yet they were still grieving. Elrond's best efforts at comfort and consolation did little to ease the pain they felt, and Aragorn remembered his father was greatly concerned that he might lose his children to grief as well. When Legolas came, Aragorn feared that his taunts and tricks would cause the situation to worsen. But in fact, it was Legolas' annoying, impudent, persistence that dragged the twins out of that bottomless well of despair. They called him a 'nuisance' and a 'menace,' but when the month was up begged him to stay for longer. Instead, Legolas invited the 'daisies' to Mirkwood for a visit, an invitation they enthusiastically accepted. Aragorn was not invited. The details of that trip were never revealed to him, but in the months that followed it was more than evident that the twins had become 'Mirkwoodized' and the Rivendell elves noticed they were beginning to take on some strange habits, such as dressing in green and brown, and spending their nights singing to the beech trees. Aragorn discovered the changes in other ways, especially when in the months that followed a whole new series of pranks was played on him, ones with strong implications of a certain young Elf prince…
Absently he wondered where the twins were now, and how far they were from home. It was not unusual that they would be the last to arrive; they had told him their destination was far and that it might be many months before they would meet again.
Aragorn thoughts slowly came back to the present, and he realized that Boromir had stopped reading. Bilbo was lying asleep on his footstool, apparently satisfied with the reading (if the huge, sleepy smile on his face was anything to go by.) Pippin had cradled his head in his arms and was snoring soundly, but Merry, Frodo, and Sam were still mostly awake, looking expectantly at Boromir.
"Do you mind if I stop now? I'm not quite understanding this, and the script is hard to read. What is a Smaug anyway?"
He mumbled the last question to himself, not expecting anyone to answer.
"First of all, its not 'a Smaug," Aragorn, overhearing, corrected him. "Smaug is a name, and the name belongs to a dragon."
Instead of thanking him, Boromir asked another question. "I suppose you have seen much of Middle- Earth, being a Ranger and everything?"
"Yes," Aragorn shrugged, dismissing it. "I'm pretty well traveled."
"Did you ever come to Gondor?"
Aragorn looked at him sharply, his eyes suspicious. "Not often. Why?"
Boromir shrugged. "I just wondered why you would, since you seem to have so little interest in your own people. I was surprised you offered to come back with me."
"I offered because Gondor is my kingdom," Aragorn answered stiffly, striving to control his rising temper. Boromir, on the other hand, seemed as subdued as ever, and even a little mystified.
"Your kingdom?" he echoed slowly, "When last I recalled, my father was ruling it, and you were roaming the Wild."
Slamming the book shut, he folded his arms and looked away, signifying the end of the conversation.
Sam looked around the room, surveying each of its occupants in turn. There was Gandalf, hunched over in his chair, trying desperately to look as if he were not asleep, when he really was. Merry and Frodo were stretched out comfortably beside Sam, scraping the bowl for any fragments nut that Pippin had neglected to eat. Aragorn was staring at Boromir, apparently trying to think of something important to say. Boromir was staring at Legolas, who was slumped against Gandalf's chair, and staring at nobody. Sam looked closer, noticing that the Elf's eyes weren't even focused at all. He shivered slightly, not because he was afraid but because the expression looked so…unnatural.
"Legolas?"
The Elf blinked, and focused on him in the same instant.
"What?"
Sam tried desperately to remember what it was he wanted to say. All that came out was:
"Now! We're all here finally. Home, I mean…"
"We are?"
Sam nodded, sighing inwardly. *Someday, I'll get this talking thing right.*
"Actually, we're not," Aragorn commented quietly. "My brothers are still missing."
"You have brothers?" Frodo asked, looking up in surprise.
Aragorn shrugged. "Yes, step-brothers. They are Elrond's sons. They went into Tharbad with me."
"Where are they now?" Merry wondered.
"I don't know."
Frodo noted the concerned look in Strider's eyes. He spoke up hopefully, "Maybe they'll come back tonight."
"I doubt it."
Merry shook his head in disagreement. "You never know Strider. What if they come back tonight and you're not awake to see them?"
When Strider didn't answer, and continued to look distant, Merry added. "Maybe we should stay up and see if they get back."
At the hobbit's suggestion, Aragorn smiled, not because it was a good idea, but because he knew they were trying to cheer him up. When he was not traveling, it was his natural inclination to get moody as the night grew late, but usually everyone knew to steer clear of him then. Somehow the fact that others were awake prevented him from retiring. Aragorn had a self-imposed duty to always be the last one of his family awake, no matter how late he had to stay up to do it. But the hobbits were looking wide-awake now, and Legolas was awake, and he'd never tried to outdo a hobbit or a Mirkwood Elf before.
"Are you sure you want to stay up?" he asked innocently. "You don't have to. I can watch for them on my own."
Merry shrugged, looking to Frodo and Sam. "We're not really tired. We'll stay up with you."
*Great.*
"Thank you, I'd really appreciate that." He turned a sidelong glance at Legolas. "You're not staying up too, are you?"
Legolas was still leaning against Gandalf's chair, and he drew his legs up into a cross-legged position. Slowly sliding a large pillow from under Gandalf's elbow, he sat on it, shifting until he was in a comfortable position.
"Why shouldn't we stay up? The twins should be back soon, I think. I have a guess as to where they might have gone," his eyes sparkled, as if he had just discovered a great secret.
"So," Merry turned to Aragorn. "How do you plan on staying awake, Strider? Should we read another story?"
"No," Legolas answered quickly, "Anything but that," he added with a small smile.
"What if Frodo sang that nice elvish song we learned on the way from Hobbiton?" Sam suggested.
Frodo blushed slightly at the mention of it, shrugging the compliment away. "That was just a silly song Sam. Besides, why should a hobbit sing an elvish song, when we have a real elf to sing one?"
Legolas shook his head, as the hobbits turned to him expectantly. "No, I'm not, I mean, my throat isn't right for singing so late. It's a little sore," he tried to explain, turning red as Aragorn turned a suspicious stare on him. Obviously, the man was not convinced.
The real truth was that the Elf was not used to singing in front of strangers aka Boromir, and he was definitely not going to sing while a dwarf was in the room. Especially when that dwarf happened to be Gimli.
"Aragorn can sing," Legolas suggested, trying to draw attention away from himself. Aragorn glared at him, snatching up a book from a small table nearby, and tried to appear innocent of the conversation. The hobbits looked rather dejected, because they had already heard Strider sing, and somehow it didn't sound quite so…pleasing. Instead, Merry suggested they play another round of Pel Palan.
Aragorn barely suppressed a groan of dismay, burying his face deeper into the book. Well, maybe Boromir would convince them to go to bed.
"In my country…" Boromir said on cue, and Aragorn stalled his grumblings to listen.
"In my country, when a bunch of us are on watch late at night, we play a game to stay awake," he spoke wistfully, as if talking to himself. "Someone starts a story and each person adds his part until it is complete. No one can tell anyone else what to say, and we all have to use the same character. The stories usually come out pretty interesting."
Aragorn gripped the book tightly as Boromir talked. *No, NO, NOOOO. This is NOT supposed to happen! This is all WRONG! NOBODY stays up later than ME!*
But the hobbits were eager to play; so Boromir agreed to show them how.
"I'll start, and then we can go in a circle, alright?" As the hobbits nodded eagerly, Boromir rested his head on his hands, massaging his temples.
The rules of the game stated that each player could only contribute a few sentences.
"Eldacar was a man with no family, but many friends. He lived alone in a house, and no one was allowed to come inside, but he would often come out to see the other villagers and speak with them. Eldacar always gave them advice whenever they asked for it, but he never asked for anything."
Thoughtfully, Merry listened until Boromir was finished. Then he took his turn. "Eldacar always tried to cheer up his friends when they were sad. He always made the best jokes at parties, and the funniest stories. In fact, he seemed so glad all the time that people thought he never cried, and he never hurt or felt pain."
When Merry finished, Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly Gimli straightened up and opened his eyes, as if he had never been sleeping at all, just listening quietly. He looked apologetic for interrupting, but Frodo only smiled and encouraged him to continue. Staring at the floor, Gimli began. "Eldacar was very fond of children, and would often stop to play with them on the way home from his work in the village. Because Eldacar lived alone and had no one to provide for, he used little of the money he made, and so began to save it. Soon he grew to be very rich, and then he began to fear that someone would try to steal from him. He didn't want anyone to be… tempted, so he locked the money away in a secret place."
"Some people thought," Frodo began hesitantly, "Some people thought that Eldacar didn't trust them anymore, and that he was a miser. He was so worried about the money that he had a hard time thinking about anything else. He kept all his troubles to himself and rarely asked for advice, although he needed it dearly. People wondered at the change in Eldacar, for they could not see his inner conflict. Less and less often he left his house, because he afraid to leave his wealth unattended. Soon, it was his only companion."
Then Aragorn contributed to the story. "Eldacar knew it was his duty to face his friends again, but he also knew that he had a bad reputation by now. So he continued to debate about whether or not he should go out, because he felt unworthy for leaving those who needed him most."
Legolas, looking purposefully at Aragorn, added, "But what he didn't know, was that the people only missed him, and wanted him to come back. Although they seemed to despise him, there were those who longed for his advice and friendship. But to them, he appeared haughty, selfish, and uncaring. It was a simple misunderstanding, but complex to solve, because neither party was willing to speak up first. This continued for many generations, and still Eldacar remained in confinement."
Aragorn tried to avoid his gaze. *Dropping hints, are we?*
Legolas was about to reply to the unspoken comment when Gandalf (who had woken long ago) decided to add his perspective to the story.
"One day some of the village children passed by Eldacar's house, which they had not seen for many, many years. The building was overgrown with vines and weeds, and had long since been deserted. Eldacar was nowhere to be found, and no one ever heard of or saw him again. In fact, some people began to believe that he had never been there at all, and this is what has been told to generations since."
Legolas smirked at Aragorn. *And you accused me of dropping hints?*
Dissatisfied, Sam frowned in disagreement. "Why would anyone forget about him? They knew he was there. Maybe he just left for a while."
Gandalf shook his head. "People tend to believe only what they can see, Sam. That is their natural course."
"But what about the things they can't see? They are just as real as the others, aren't they? I didn't use to believe in elves and dwarves, but they were still real."
He felt Gimli shift beside him, and the dwarf chuckled softly. "How ridiculous. Not believing in dwarves and elves? I've never heard of such a thing!"
"I didn't believe in dwarves until I met one," Legolas mumbled.
"I had never seen a Halfling before, until I came here," Boromir interrupted calmly. By now he had learned how to predict the signs of an argument, and how to avoid one. Boromir threw a warning glance at the Elf, then looked at Aragorn. "And I didn't know that Rangers still inhabited the North."
*And that our King chose exile, along with them.*
Aragorn read the meaning in Boromir's eyes, but this time he didn't look away.
*I am sorry, Boromir. I know I have failed my people.*
The others watched this silent exchange, but the two men seemed not to notice the observation.
"I didn't know that Sauron was a real person," Frodo murmured suddenly. "He seemed as far off as the dragon in Bilbo's story."
Boromir glanced at the Halfling. "He is not so elusive anymore. It is strange that, although we in Gondor strove to protect those who lived beyond Sauron's shadow, we never knew who we were protecting in the first place."
"Or who you weren't," Legolas added. "Sauron is not our only enemy."
"Saruman too," Gandalf agreed solemnly. "I never thought he would betray the Maia. None of us did, really. It seems those who you trusted most, should have been trusted least."
"Unlikely enemies," Aragorn replied. Merry blew out a breath of frustration.
"What a hopeless picture. Why does everything have to be hopeless all the time? Why do some people want to do right, and some people want to do wrong?" He looked up at Legolas and Strider. "If Frodo destroys the Ring, will everyone want to do right?"
Legolas smiled understandingly. "People have free-will. If eliminating the Ring destroys that will then yes, I guess everyone will act the same way. But if their will is tied to the Ring, then it was never free in the first place."
He stopped at a noise from Gimli that sounded like a cough. Sam had been talking to him all this while, and suddenly Gimli burst out laughing in the middle of the conversation, barely restraining himself from falling over. He looked as if he were about to say something to Legolas, but looking at the Elf only made him laugh harder. Sam, looking slightly guilty, tried to explain.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Legolas, I just had to ask him if he really was Gimli the gnome from the story you read about Beren and Luthien."
Aragorn saw the Elf tense and inwardly sighed, recognizing the signs of yet another argument brewing.
*Now this is exactly why we will not win this war, because no one can cooperate with anyone else -* Aragorn felt a pang of conscience. * No, Boromir does not count. Besides, he is the one who avoids me, not the other way around. And furthermore -*
He chanced a wary glance at Legolas, wondering how the Elf would retaliate. *If Legolas can't even say a few civil words about the dwarf, let alone to him, and I've barely spoken to Boromir since the Council, the four of us would probably be more of a burden than a help. Everyone says it is vital that we cooperate, but they don't understand the situation. How will I be able to win my own kingdom back, if I can't even win the hearts of my people? They've been ruled by the Stewards for hundreds of years, and suddenly they're going to accept this total stranger who comes out of the middle of nowhere and claims to be their king?* He frowned and looked at Legolas again, wondering why the Elf was smiling at him. *He's laughing at me? No, he's laughing at…the dwarf? What? Is he insane? Overtired? Wait, he's laughing…with the dwarf?*
While Frodo winced inwardly, hoping he would stop, Sam tried to explain what Legolas had told him. "Legolas was reading the story about Beren and Luthien escaping from Tevildo, and how Gimli that gnome had been a prisoner there for many years. His hair was overgrown and his skin was all wrinkly with warts and none of his friends could recognize him. He said that gnomes live underground and dig for treasure with other gnomes, and that they hardly every come outside." Sam's speech was puncuated with loud bursts of laughter from Legolas and Gimli, while the others stared at them, bemused. "He said that gnomes can live for thousands of years too," Sam added, wondering what was so funny.
"Well that, at least, is true," Gandalf interrupted, with a reproving glare at Legolas.
The Elf pretended not to see him, rocking back on his pillow and laughing even harder. The only thing was that Legolas never really laughed, and that his laugh could not really be classified as 'a laugh' because it wasn't. The sound that came from the Elf's mouth was more of a high-pitched, high-powered giggle that sounded so ridiculous, that even Gandalf, accustomed as he was to dealing with strange things, did a double take.
"Legolas, are you alright?"
The Elf nodded the affirmative, still laughing uncontrollably. Gimli, meanwhile, continued to chuckle, hoping the Elf was laughing with him, not at him. The gnome story was pretty funny, Gimli admitted to himself, especially because-
"Legolas?" Aragorn said hesitantly. "You realize you are laughing with a dwarf?"
Legolas nodded again.
"And that's, alright with you?"
The Elf threw him the best what-a-stupid-question look he could manage.
"Of course you know," Gandalf informed Sam, "That real gnomes are very tall, although they do happen to have a lot of hair. So there was a grain of truth in that mountain of fiction he told you."
"What is a gnome then, Gandalf?" Sam wondered, trying to picture it in his mind.
"A gnome is an Elf, of course."
"WHAT?!" Legolas nearly choked.
A long moment of stunned silence ensued, that was finally broken by Gimli.
"Well of course, you knew that didn't you?" Gimli asked the Elf curiously, but Legolas only stared in disbelief. "Apparently not. Never you mind, Master Elf." He smiled cheekily, "We'll make sure everyon- uh, no one hears about your huge blunder."
Merry choked back a laugh and tried to appear apologetic. He realized that the Elf was probably terribly embarrassed, especially in front of all these people he barely knew. "It's alright Legolas, we won't tell. We promise."
Sam nodded in agreement. "It'll be a secret, between friends." He looked up at the others for confirmation. "Right?"
Aragorn grimaced. *Of all the words one might use to describe us, 'friends' isn't exactly the one I would choose. Something like, 'strange, unlikely people in a strange, unlikely situation' would probably be more on target…*
He looked over at Boromir, whose face echoed the same sentiments. Before Aragorn could speak, the man swiftly looked away into another corner of the room.
"Strange, unlikely people who can't even define their real adversary," the Ranger murmured to himself. "You are fighting the wrong enemy, Boromir." *Aragorn. Legolas. Gimli.*
Ignoring the pang of conscience, Aragorn looked down, only to see the dejected expression on Sam's face. "Right? Everyone?"
Aragorn sighed and didn't answer.
"Right, Master Samwise," the dwarf said loudly, startling even himself.
Aragorn turned to stare at Gimli, who only raised an eyebrow at him. "Any reasons why not?" he glared at each of them in turn.
Smiling slowly, Aragorn shook his head. "Not even one." He turned to Boromir, who nodded slowly.
"It's very late," Boromir commented to Aragorn. "Do you think your brothers will return soon? Or is it worth it to stay up anymore?" Aragorn was startled at the sudden change of subject, and he looked at Boromir questioningly. The man only stared back, and suddenly Aragorn realized that he wasn't changing the subject, he was asking for advice. Boromir had never asked him for advice before.
"I think if we stayed up for a few more hours, we would see them. But if everyone's tired," Aragorn added hopefully, "You can go to bed and I'll just stay up by myself."
Merry looked at Aragorn with a curious expression in his eyes. "You really want to stay up by yourself? Are you trying to be the last one awake or something?"
"Yes! I- mean," Aragorn added in a subdued tone. "I wouldn't mind it."
"Well, if everyone is quiet for at least ten minutes, maybe I will fall asleep," Merry answered. "But if Legolas' voice suddenly healed, and he sang something, I might fall asleep even faster," he added, grinning at the Elf.
Legolas shook his head. "I'm not ready for that yet. Maybe tomorrow night."
"But tomorrow night, Frodo and Sam may be gone, and then they'll never get to hear you again," Merry protested. "And then what will Pippin and I do, if we can't go with them, and Master Elrond doesn't think we should, I know he doesn't! And I want to go, but it seems hopeless to try to convince anyone!" Merry's smile had faded, and he looked crestfallen and frustrated.
"Well you certainly are a pessimist," Legolas laughed, favoring the hobbit with a smile. He looked over at Frodo and Sam, who were also starting to look a little dejected at the prospect of their soon departure. "I'm not going either, so we can stay here and be miserable together."
Gandalf chuckled too, his eyes twinkling softly. "Don't be so gloomy, Master Merry. You never know what the future will bring. There is always hope."
"Yes, but where is it?"
Gandalf just looked at him and smiled.
Three hours later, the fire had died down to mere embers, and the torches had long since burned out. Outside in the darkness, little stirred besides the dry leaves that scattered in the face of a cold, night wind. A quarter-moon hung silent and listless in the winter sky, barely casting light on the slumbering valley. Only the restless water moved beneath the bridge, tumbling on its endless way past many unseeing eyes.
Two tall figures crossed the veranda and appeared in the doorway of the library, surprised to find that it was still occupied. As their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, they could discern several, small, large, wide, and thin figures scattered at various intervals across the room. Slowly picking their way through the maze of slumbering people, the two travelers exchanged whispered observations.
"Look, Elladan, here's Estel asleep. Trying to be the last one awake again!"
"Ssh! Stop talking so loud! He's not as deaf as he looks!"
"Sssh yourself! If the sound of that snoring dwarf didn't wake him, I don't know what can. I bet you didn't even notice that that's Gandalf sleeping there by your elbow. You would have knocked him in a minute."
Warily, Elladan moved away from the wizard, whose long hat was pulled down onto the bridge of his nose. He noticed another form curled up on the other side of Gandalf's chair, and cautioned Elrohir to lower his voice.
"Elrohir, I found Legolas over here. You'd better be quiet, though he looks dead asleep to me." So saying, he nearly tripped over the hobbits, whose small forms were hard to see in the dark. Cringing as Elladan kicked something across the floor, Elrohir shook a finger at his brother.
"You're hopeless."
Regaining his balance, Elladan tried to discover what it was he had kicked. He picked a flat disc object off of the floor.
"Look Elrohir, they were playing our game."
Impatiently, Elrohir started to move towards the door. "What game?"
"Pel Palan. Look, here's the playing pieces. And the dice."
The Elf stifled a snigger. "You mean the ones that come out even 90% of the time?"
"Exactly. And here are all those ridiculous questions. Let's see. What two rivers flow into the Sea of Rhun?"
Elrohir threw his brother a withering look. "I don't know, and I don't care."
"Incorrect!"
"Elladan! You're being too loud!"
Elladan shrugged, putting the game back on the shelf, and stacking the cards beside it. Making his way over to the door, he stopped and looked back at the slumbering companions. "I wonder why they stayed up so late. They're going to be all tired out tomorrow."
Elrohir snorted. "I wonder how they survived the night. Legolas hates dwarves. You can barely mention the word around him!" he stopped suddenly, pointing at the figure in the third chair. "Who is that? Is that the Gondorian man who came to the Council?"
"I think so. What was his name? Baladir or something?" Elladan shrugged, dismissing the matter. But Elrohir looked thoughtful.
"I wonder why he and Estel never got along. They're both humans, after all, you'd think that-"
"We're brothers, and we still have arguments," Elladan reminded him.
"But that's different. And we're different. Estel is supposed to be that man's king."
"Exactly. That's the problem."
Understanding his brother's reasoning, Elrohir couldn't help but agree, but he still felt confused. "No matter what their differences are, they are still unlikely enemies."
"And even more unlikely friends," Elladan added. "But, you never know, there may still be some hope."
Elrohir shook his head. "I don't know what you're thinking, Elladan…"
His brother smiled knowingly. "Just you wait and see."
As the two elves left the room, something stirred in the shadows. But it was only a stray leaf that fluttered on the doorstep, and was soon whisked back out onto the empty veranda. Then all was still and silent, except for the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping companions that neither ebbed nor slowed. Time flew by, and the night began to wane. By the time the sun edged over the horizon the last ember of fire had died on the hearth, and the smoke flew out of the open ceiling into the twilight, to meet the fading stars.
The End.
Author's Note: Even though this is just a short story, as an author I feel pretty satisfied, because it's the first story I've ever completed, in the extremely long history of me writing stories. Seriously, I have NEVER finished a story. This is an experiment, that hopefully proves I will be able to finish the other stories I have on ff. I think one of the most disappointing things in life is reading a half finished story that the author has no intention of completing. So now I can get back to Dark Things Silent, unless of course I think up a sequel to this one…
In case you didn't notice, in the character's compilation story, they each add a new aspect of the character Eldacar that actually represents something about the character that is speaking. In other words, everyone is really saying something about themselves. Look back and think about it. Anyway, thanks for your time and patience. If you find any typos, it's because my younger sibling is still growing up, and needs to be a better proofreader.
So, until we meet again…
Namarie!
-Mirkwood.