The Path That Need Chooses By Ecri (See part 1 for disclaimer.) Please review.
I want to thank you all for the wonderful reviews, especially those who have mentioned that they like the conversation and friendship between Legolas and Boromir. Whenever I've read the book I've always thought there should have been more of Legolas in it, and I wondered what relationships might have developed between the nine members of the Fellowship. When I saw the film, I still wished for more interaction between some of the characters. I'm glad others feel the same way.
I never thought it was true, but the reviews do help me to get the chapters posted quicker. Thanks so much for taking the time. I hope you enjoy this next part!
Author's Note: Anything that seems familiar, especially lines of dialogue, are right from the movies or the book. All ideas are inspired by the book and the movies. Any lines or scenes that I have taken directly from any other source or are too similar to scenes from the films are in italics. No disrespect is intended.
Part 3
"Pip," Merry called softly to his friend. They'd drifted into a companionable silence as they walked each lost in his own thoughts.
"What is it, Merry?"
"Have you noticed that Aragorn and Gandalf keep looking behind us towards Boromir and Legolas?"
"They're probably just trying to make sure we're all together."
Merry shook his head. "No, they're whispering about something." Merry had watched the pair and seen the growing concern in their eyes as they spoke. They seemed worried. Not that they didn't have reason, but their concern for the moment didn't seem to be centered around Frodo. The entire Fellowship had taken a rather protective stance towards the other Hobbit, and Merry, of course, split his concern between Frodo and Pip.
He glanced sidelong at the youngest Hobbit, using their conversation to mask his concerned look. He knew Pippin was frightened, but, to his credit, he was doing his best to put up a brave front.
Pippin turned to face him, half-shrugging at Merry's comment. "Maybe they're wondering what those two find so funny."
Merry nodded, and might almost have convinced himself to believe it, had Aragorn not glanced backwards once again with worry in his eyes.
**
The next day, after a much longer journey through the stone halls of Moria, the Fellowship paused bone weary and much in need of rest. Gandalf had found a much smaller area for their campsite than they'd used the previous night and Boromir grunted in satisfaction as he surveyed it. "This is good. Easily defensible."
Aragorn nodded. "We should choose watch for this evening."
Boromir agreed. "Perhaps you and I may split the night between us."
Gimli stepped forward eyeing the two men. "Perhaps you are overlooking the presence of others perfectly capable of protecting this Fellowship." As he spoke, Gimli fingered the haft of his axe.
"It does appear that way." Legolas agreed stepping forward, and, for the moment, ignoring the fact that he had just agreed with a dwarf.
Boromir sighed not wishing a fight. "We have not forgotten your skills." He looked at both elf and dwarf as he spoke. "There is little reason that some of us should not enjoy a night of unbroken rest. The shifts can be split between the two of you tomorrow. Between Gandalf and a Hobbit the next night, and so on. Take rest while you may, my friends."
Gimli grumbled but seemed to accept the apparent logic of the men.
Legolas was about to protest further, when Aragorn took a step towards him. "Rest, mellonin. You kept watch last evening, and as I recall a goodly portion of the night before that. Let us do this."
Legolas nodded and after a light meal, fell into a troubled sleep.
**
The next morning, Aragorn, who'd taken the later watch, felt his eyes drifting towards Legolas. He could tell the elf had not slept soundly, and he found himself feeling helpless. He wanted nothing more than to help his friend, but if he did not seek assistance Aragorn could not force it upon him.
As Legolas finally stirred, later than was his wont, Aragorn noted how he seemed to be less himself. He looked the same, to be sure, but he seemed to move at a slower pace, as if he could not quite shake himself to full awareness.
The Ranger pondered this over breakfast, and continued well into their travels. From time to time he would spare a glance toward Legolas, more often than not finding him talking to Boromir. He wondered at that, but realized, with the Hobbits occupying each other and he and Gandalf and Gimli often in conference with each other about their path, it almost seemed natural for Legolas and Boromir to seek each other's company.
Boromir, for his part, was equally amazed at his inchoate relationship with an elf. He had not misled Legolas when he'd claimed to have had few dealings with elves in the past. Certainly his visit to Rivendell had exposed him to more of the comely creatures than he had ever before seen.
The elf had taken his curiosity in stride, as indeed he seemed to take everything. Seemed to takeBoromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor was not a stupid man. Nor was he unobservant. He saw the elf's agitation. He recognized his deterioration, though it might have appeared slight in some other being, in an elf it seemed a shocking dimness had crept over him.
Boromir had also noticed how the elf seemed wary of shadows, and how he leaned towards the light of Gandalf's staff, perhaps without being aware he was doing it. He saw Aragorn's and Gandalf's concerned glances, and had seen the elf's attempts to convince both of his friends that he was fine with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head from time to time.
Knowing he could offer no magic or medicine to cure a malady he did not comprehend in a being he so little understood, Boromir decided the best course of action would be to treat the elf as he sometimes had treated his own brother. When Faramir had been very young, he had been prone to illness. Boromir could do little for his brother than to distract him from his symptoms, thus reducing his misery until the concoctions, herbs, and remedies used by the healers had the time to work. That, he decided, was what he would do now, though the very thought of treating Legolas, who was most likely much older than Boromir, as his younger brother was an interesting paradox.
Boromir had kept this up for their entire journey through the mines, and was beginning to run out of questions for the elf. He had thus far kept Legolas talking about elves and Mirkwood, and Middle-earth. He had learned why Legolas had been so unaffected by the weather on Caradhras. He had learned that Legolas' father was a King, but he had yet to learn why, when he had called Legolas a Prince, the elf had laughed at him.
Whatever else he had learned, he was aware that, though they now walked in what he would term companionable silence, he had to find some topic of conversation if he meant to be a proper distraction. They were into their third day within this dwarven tomb, and truly, the elf looked a bit worse for it.
He was still searching his mind for some question to ask or topic to broach when Legolas found one for him.
"Boromir, we have spoken much the last two days, but I find I know little of your home. Tell me of the White City. Tell me about yourself, Man of Gondor."
Surprised, but well pleased by this opportunity to boast about his home, Boromir agreed. "I will gladly do as you bid, Legolas, and tell you of it. The White City is a splendor to behold"
Legolas listened as his companion, no, his newest friend, told him long, detailed stories of Minas Tirith. "You describe it so well, I can see it in my mind." Legolas spoke in the softest of voices. "I can almost feel the sunshine as it glitters down upon the tower, reflecting off your silver trumpets."
Legolas closed his eyes for but a moment, and inhaled and Boromir would almost swear the Elf was inhaling the sweet scents of grass and flowers and seeing the radiant light of The White City.
"It is indeed a beautiful place."
"I hope to see it one day, and to meet your brother. The picture you paint of him tells me what delight you take in him."
"I would love to show it to you, and to introduce you to Faramir. He is well versed in lore and insatiably curious. He would bend your ear with questions about elves that would make my own seem as innocent as a Hobbit is hungry."
Legolas laughed out loud, a musical sound that turned several of their companions' heads. "That is innocent, indeed!"
**
They walked on covering a good distance before stopping for the evening. Gandalf, Aragorn, and Gimli conferred briefly before choosing their resting place, and to Legolas' delight, the Wizard increased the light from his staff until they were all comfortable with the security of their campsite.
They ate lightly though that was a term relative to each race. Legolas and Gandalf ate only a bit of fruit. Boromir and Aragorn ate bread and cold meat. Gimli and the Hobbits partook of a bit of everything, with Pippin eating by far the most of them all.
Once they'd eaten, Gandalf told a brief tale of days long ago. It was a lighthearted story meant to keep their spirits up, for Gandalf could sense the growing shadow that sought to weave its way through their company. The surroundings were getting to all of them, even Gimli, who, though at home in the depths of the mines, was becoming increasingly unnerved by the inescapable fact that no dwarf still lived in Moria.
Once Gandalf's story was over, conversation started in earnest. The Hobbits were a curious bunch and Pippin, perhaps inspired by their surroundings, found himself asking Gimli questions of dwarvendom. Gimli was easily encouraged to talk on the subject and was soon regaling them with tales of feasts, celebrations, and bravery in battle.
The dwarf was just reaching the end of a rather long, exciting tale of dragons and gold when, glancing at his audience he noticed a far away look in Legolas' eyes. Affronted by the lack of respectful courtesy, the dwarf increased the volume of his voice, intending to bring the elf's attention back to the tale rather then to whatever elven thoughts the haughty creature considered more entertaining.
He was rewarded a few moments later, when, reaching the climactic moment of his story, Gimli loudly clapped his hands together to approximate the sound of an axe hitting hard stone. The Hobbits, caught up in the tale, jumped just a bit. Legolas was startled enough to jump forward, moving from quiet repose to crouch lightly on his toes arrow nocked and aimed in the direction of the sound.
Silence reigned as the Fellowship stared at Legolas, Gimli's tale momentarily forgotten.
**
Legolas had not realized how tired he was. He had not slept well, and the long trek through Moria was claiming much of his resolve and strength. Soon after nibbling an apple, he fell deeply into an elven sleep, lulled by Mithrandir's words, a comforting translation of an old elvish tale.
In the past, Legolas had tried to sleep slightly away from his companions, sometimes in a tree or at the least in the shadow of one. He knew some mortals found the sight of elven sleep disturbing and he had no wish to disconcert his friendsespecially the Hobbits who likely had no idea that elves slept with eyes open and fixed in what he had once heard described as the very look of mortal death.
In Moria, there were no trees to climb or offer shade, and Legolas was not yet comfortable enough within its stone embrace to try to find the same comfort in some rocky overhang or crevasse.
Even had there been a place to secrete himself, sleep had come upon him so suddenly he would not have had the time. As it was, his head was turned full to the light from Mithrandir's staff, unconsciously searching for the sun and moonlight that so comforted an elf even in sleep. Indeed, Legolas had often thought how likely it was that this was the very reason elves slept with eyes open, so as not to be cut off from the heavenly light.
His sleep was troubled, and his dreams not pleasant. Elven dreams differed from mortal ones, and some small part of him hoped it was not premonition.
A loud, strong crack shook the elf from his disturbed slumber, and he moved swiftly into a defensive position facing the danger before he was fully aware again of his surroundings. In those moments as he blinked away sleep, dream, and trepidation, the world again took familiar shape. Legolas was startled to find that his companions were safe. No threat, no orc or goblin, no enemy appeared to threaten the Fellowship. In truth, he himself was the only one pointing weapons at the group. Slowly, he lowered his bow, stood from his defensive crouch, and removed arrow from bowstring to hold it limply in his right hand. Chagrined at his behavior, his gaze drifted around the eight faces staring at him.
He opened his mouth to speak his apology and make a remark about his mistaken perception of threat, when Gimli stepped forward eyes blazing in anger.
"Just what are you doing?"
"I meant no harm, Master Dwarf"
But Gimli would not have him finish. "No harm! You stupid, bloody elf! I was just reaching the best part of my tale only to have you attack me?"
"I meant no attack"
Gimli cut him off with an angry gesture, and without thinking, tore the arrow from the elf's loose hold. In fury, he snapped it in two earning gasps from the hobbits and groans from the humans. The elf stared in horror at the two pieces of his arrow that Gimli had thrown to the ground.
Gimli spoke again, not giving the elf a chance to comment. "I should have known you would behave so dishonorably! Never trust an Elf! Especially an Elf of Mirkwood!"
Anger twisted Legolas' fair face, but he made a valiant effort to control it. He took a deep breath, unconsciously searching for the scent of grass, trees, and flowers that would have had a calming effect on him. With their absence, he was only able to maintain a tenuous hold on his emotions. Unbidden memories of Elrond's Council claimed him, and he saw himself holding back his elven comrades when last this dwarf insulted him. He had no one to hold back now except himself, and he found it had been far easier to maintain his own calm when he was responsible, as the ranking member of the Mirkwood delegation, for his friends' behavior as well as his own.
"I would ask you, dwarf, to choose your words more wisely."
The dwarf took a step closer to Legolas, cold, brown eyes glaring up into equally cold blue ones. "My words are wise enough, elf!"
"You insult my people! You insult my father's realm!"
No one would have expected it possible, but Gimli seemed angrier than he had a moment before. "Your father's realm! Are you the son of that half-witted drunkard, Thranduil?"
Aragorn stepped forward unable to leave Legolas alone now. He knew his friend well enough to know he wouldn't take such insults without returning them in kind, and if they allowed this to escalate, the effect on the Fellowship would be impossible to predict.
"Peace, Gimli! Sidh, Legolas!" He held both hands out away from his body and stood easily between the two. "You would both be wise to consider what you say."
Legolas took a step back forcing his clenched hands to open, forcing his rage down. He spared a glance to his broken arrow and stooped to retrieve it. Once he was again upright, he looked at Gimli. Forcing a serenity he did not feel to grace his fair features, Legolas spoke softly, but imbued his words with all the kingly command he had learned in his father's court. "I am not my father. I am his son. Do not think to take up the feud between your father and mine unless you are certain that your own is as blameless as you think."
Gimli sputtered for a moment, but was restrained by Boromir, whom, Aragorn now realized had stepped into the fray when he had. Boromir knelt then to look Gimli in the eye. "Please, Gimli, do not pursue this."
Gimli grumbled, but, noting the stares of the Hobbits, wanted to appear the more noble. "Very well. I will not waste my time, nor hinder the efforts of the Fellowship." He said no more, and moved away from Legolas to spend his time sitting by the wall and feeling superior to elves everywhere.
Aragorn sighed releasing the built up tension with great relief. He wanted to follow after Legolas, but he recognized that the mood around the campsite had definitely soured. He would have to do something to distract the Hobbits first.
It took less time than he expected, but twenty minutes later, Merry and Pippin were singing a drinking song from the shire, while Sam and Frodo laughed and clapped. Even Gandalf, Gimli, and Boromir appeared to be enjoying themselves.
He was just about to move off to Legolas' side when he noticed Gandalf staring at him. Knowing he was being summoned he moved off to sit at the Wizard's side. Gandalf knew Aragorn's patience was wearing thin, so hastened to his point. "You did well avoiding a more serious altercation, Aragorn, but we must watch those two carefully. They will either become the best of friends or the worst of enemies."
"Friends!" Aragorn scoffed. "Gandalf, they clearly hate each other."
Gandalf smiled. "Not so clearly, Son of Arathorn. Gimli hates elves, and Legolas hates dwarves, but neither knows enough of the other to hate him as an individual."
"Gandalf, if this is truly a problem for him"
"I am sure it is. I just do not know how big a problem it is. He is likely trying to avoid having some members of the Fellowship from discussingwhat happened. After all, there were others involved." He considered the elf for a moment, and by either whim or some hidden internal signal, he relented. He gestured to Legolas where he sat trying to repair his arrow. "Go on, then. Talk to him. He may be ready."
Aragorn stared at Gandalf for a moment trying to find the hidden meaning in the Istar's words, but he had to give up. Glancing back at Legolas, he rose and crossed the campsite to his friend's side.
To be continued
