Well kiddies, I'm thinking of giving up. On the whole wearing out the brain cells trying to title each chapter. And titling my nu story. And summarising it. In fact, I realise now that I officially suck at all such titling and summarising. I'm just gonna expend my valuable knowledge on more plot for you. And while I'm on the subject of my nu story [ ok I wasn't but I am now OK???] I'm hoping if all works out that a third and possibly fourth chapter will be posted as we speak.

READ IT!!!! And also this too if you please. Its actually quite ok if you consider what you're about to read acceptable.

Twenty minutes it took Gimli and his elf companion to reach the site where she'd used her arrows. It was truly the most tense journey of his entire life, and as a dwarf, he generally took such things in his stride but the entire trip, Nephryn Istriél had been silent, stubbornly refusing aid when he offered it despite the fact that he limp slowed their pace. As he stood, he looked around for the lost arrows.

Nephryn turned to him and spoke softly, not wanting to alert their presence to anyone in the woods.

"You will find two Orcs directly down from here. They are lying close together. There ought to be two arrows. I will get the others and meet you back here momentarily."

Gimli simply nodded and trudged in the direction she'd indicated. Surely, not twenty feet across the crest, two Orcs lay slain. Gimli noted as he stooped to grab the arrows that each shot had been instantly fatal, one striking the neck and the other the head. If the elf-maid was nothing else, she was a good shot, albeit very with obstinacy matched only by his late grandfather.

He chuckled to himself at the thought of comparing the slight, quiet elf to his loud, demanding grandfather. It would be a sight to behold! He lumbered tiredly back to the spot where they'd parted company and saw that the elf maid was limping slowly up the slope. She carried in her hand a set of arrows. As she drew closer, the exhaustion was plainly evident on her face.

He knew well that she'd come out here, not to collect the arrows for that could be done anytime, but to escape the stifling atmosphere of the camp. He too felt it. How could they not? The eerie quiet was a reminder of the missing hobbits and the sight of the forlorn corpse of their lost comrade was testament to their inability to conquer the impossible odds before them.

There was something else that occupied her too, but it was perhaps a private matter, the details of which he did not know. Nonetheless it appeared to weigh heavily on her.

He was equally aware of the reasons behind Legolas's seeming unkind words. The dwarf had seen the look on the elf's face when he'd seen the state of the elf-maid, and he knew then that Legolas had feared for her all along. Of course she'd proved herself by holding her own out here. She'd done the best any of them could. She'd probably saved the hobbit, Sam's life and she'd stayed alive, but as was always the way with these situations, the trap of questioning ones judgement was easy to fall into and difficult to escape.

As he walked alongside her now, he noted again that their pace had slowed. The injury, coupled with her fatigue and her silent burden of guilt would continue to slow them and he did not anticipate walking in the dark.

"Would you lean on me Lady," he offered politely, glancing her way in the hope she might accept.

"I will not," she replied brusquely, staring straight ahead.

"Your obduracy is blinding you to all the realities of our situation!" he barked, and winced as it sounded rather more harsh than perhaps he'd intended it to.

The elf-maid stopped at this and turned to face him, wrath plainly set in her features.

"What do you mean by that," she demanded.

Gimli did not appreciate her tone and so he found himself grinding out the truth to her.

"You would not accept Legolas's help because you believe it would be a sign of weakness, when in fact his fear for your safety was justified, not because you are weak, but because mere hours before these woods were crawling with foul creatures; creatures that were skilled enough and dangerous enough to kill a comrade and scatter our group!"

Gimli breathed heavily at the tirade but he was not done.

"And even now you would refuse aid, despite that unless we raise our pace, we shall pace in darkness! It is blind obstinacy, and I recognise it because it is a trait inherent in all dwarves along with a good degree of common sense!!"

Gimli almost yelled the last word. He set his walking-axe down in an emphatic thud and watched for a reaction. For a long while, the elf stared at him, taken aback by the outburst, for it was the most he'd said to since they'd met. At last she bowed her head and whispered her reply.

"You are right, of course. I am sorry. I will gladly accept your aid," she muttered humbly, holding out her hand.

He took her hand and laid it on his shoulder and together they set off at a faster pace. They continued in silence and the dwarf feared that his words were overly harsh, that perhaps she'd experienced enough callousness for one day.

"Thank you Gimli. You have done me a service in telling me blunt truths." 

"There is no need to thank me, for I would expect the same candour from any of my friends. But please, I you take anything from my harsh words, be it that Legolas said what he did because he cares – no other reason."

With that peace was made between the elf and dwarf and though they did not speak the rest of the journey, the silence was companionable.

When they returned to the camp, they found that between them, Legolas and Aragorn had fashioned a raft on which to lay Boromir's body. They'd agreed to send his down the river to the falls of Rauros, where nature would ensure that no fell creature could sully the fallen comrade.

As the sun set on the river, Aragorn and Gimli carried their friend to the river, and there the remaining four of the fellowship bade farewell to the Steward of Gondor. They stood in silence on the bank for almost an hour, until the vessel was beyond even elven eyes. Gimli started back toward the camp, followed closely by the Legolas and Nephryn. Aragorn remained at the bank until night fell swift on Amon Hen. They'd agreed to spend the last night there and they would depart at dawn, though where they would go was yet to be decided.

As she hauled her aching limbs the last leg up the slope to their camp, Nephryn knew she had to make her peace with Legolas tonight, for she would need him. He walked behind, silent but not angry. She slowed her pace and held out her hand. Warmth filled her cold heart for the first time that day as he grasped it lightly. He walked by her side and slipped an arm around her waist to support her as they edged down the glade to their camp.

Before she lay down to sleep, she changed the dressings on Legolas's arm again. As she tended to him, he stared at her.

"Will you be able to run tomorrow?"

She looked up from her work and bit her lip as she pondered his question.

"It is only bruised, but if I cannot run, you will go on without me and I will catch up."

She returned to the bandages on his arms, but he tilted her head toward him.

"If you cannot run, I will wait. I will not leave." She was lost in his gaze as she acknowledged all the underlying meaning.

Nephryn nodded once and finished with the bandage. She pulled his tunic back up over his shoulder, the contact between her fingertips and the sleek muscles of his arms sending chills down her back. They lay down then side-by-side, and she curled in against him, burying her face in the crook of his good arm in feeble attempt to ward the haunting dreams that would ensure that all would have, at best, a fitful sleep.

I think I've always been alone in the belief that Gimli is the voice of sanity and reason among Tolkien's wacky cohort….