An insistent banging finally roused Legolas from his exhausted slumber. He quickly rolled out of the bed and pulled on his hose and tunic. Passing through the entryway he opened his door. Two Elves of the guard stood there, with anxious expressions on their faces.
Biting back the urge to chastise them for interrupting his first night in the arms of his love in centuries, he nodded in greeting. "What is it?"
The taller Elf was named Telarion. He was Caldarion's younger brother, not quite as striking a figure, but of a stout heart. He said, "We have taken two prisoners, Legolas. I think you might want to meet them."
Legolas' eyebrows raised. "Prisoners? What manner of prisoners?"
Telarion refused to answer, simply repeating, "I think you should meet them yourself."
Frustrated, Legolas nodded. "Give me a minute."
He turned and closed the door, not caring that the action was abrupt and somewhat rude. He entered his sleeping room and smiled down at the vision in his bed. Nimoë was splayed across the bed, her hair and the bedsheets wrapped about her slender body. Remembering the wonders that the previous night had held, Legolas smiled. It had been worth the wait.
Gently he reached down and stroked her hair back from her brow. "Nimoë, sweet, wake up."
Her grey eyes fluttered open and she saw him. A knowing smile spread across her pink lips and she pulled him down for a kiss. "What is it? Why are you already dressed?"
"It seems that two prisoners have been taken. I am summoned to meet with them."
A small pout crossed Nimoë's face, but she quickly schooled her expression back to peaceful resignation. "I will miss you."
He smiled. "I know. That is why I woke you. I did not want you to wake and find me gone. Not after last night. Will you be alright?"
"Of course. Go on."
He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I will return as quickly as I can."
Nimoë was already rising, keeping the bedsheet wrapped about herself, suddenly shy in his presence. "I will be at the Healing House. I have to check on Caldarion."
"I will find you there." Then he turned and left.
Telarion and the other Elf, a youth named Eredir, led Legolas briskly towards the outskirts of Núrnelven. There was an old ruin there which had not yet been converted into a dwelling or other building, and was being used for grain storage. Telarion explained, "It was the only place we could think to bring them until such time as you had a chance to meet with them."
Legolas could not conceive of what might be waiting for him. If any Men or creatures of the Shadow had approached Núrnelven, surely they would have been killed rather than captured. It made no sense.
As they neared the ruin, he began to hear a gruff voice raised in anger, "This is our welcome? After all the miles we have traveled? Where is the purported courtesy of the Elves, I ask you?!"
The timbre of the voice was familiar and Legolas hastened his stride. Pushing wide the rickety door, he entered the burned out room. What he saw there momentarily struck him dumb.
A Dwarf! And unless his eyes deceived him, a Hobbit was sitting at his ease on a bale of oats. The Dwarf was standing with his chest jutted out, trying to talk his way past the guards who had been left behind to guard him. He was the very image of Gimli in his prime, and his bushy beard nearly grazed the tips of the arrows that were held drawn towards him.
With an abrupt motion of his hand, Legolas ordered, "Drop your weapons. These are friends."
The Dwarf turned to pierce him with his steely gaze. "Friends you say? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I expected better treatment from the Elves. My noble ancestor Gimli, son of Gloin, spoke highly of you. I begin to wonder if he was in his right mind."
Legolas' eyes brightened. "You are a descendant of Gimli? He was indeed a noble Dwarf. I am honored to say that I was his friend. I am Legolas." So saying, he extended his hand in greeting.
"My name is Gilmin. I have heard your name spoken. It has been said that you were a great Elf Lord. They also said that you sailed for Valinor with my grandfather's grandfather. How can you be here now?"
Smiling at the Dwarf's innate suspicious nature, Legolas replied, "After Gimli passed into the next life, I returned to this place, for my task was not yet complete. I am honored to meet you, Gilmin." He gestured to the Hobbit, who had not moved nor spoken since Legolas entered the silo. "And who is this that travels with you?"
"Ask me about myself, Elf," said the Hobbit. "I have my own voice, and I know how to use it." His curling black hair framed a face that was unusually stern for a Hobbit, his blue eyes cold. He rose from the bale and stepped forward, his hand resting on his hip in such a way that Legolas suspected he had a weapon concealed there, even though both prisoners had been stripped of their visible weaponry.
"My name is Raven Brandybuck. Do you intend to keep us prisoner here?"
Legolas indicated that both men should exit the building. "You are under my protection. Will you not tell me what brings you to this place? This is far from the beaten path."
They stepped into the full sun of morning and blinked to adjust their eyes. Gilmin brought a heavy hand up to shade his face. He spoke simply, "Men have been pressing us hard. Raven led what was left of the Shire Hobbits to our mountain, where we made them welcome, although Hobbits do not thrive in the deep places. We have been safe there, but the attacks of Men grow more bold. It is as if some dread force pushes them ever forward, eager in their desire to eradicate us all. Rumor reached us in our hideaway that the Elves had been forced to flee Ithilien into the Black Lands of Mordor.
"After the last attack it was decided that we should seek you out, determine whether you survived, and ask you to aid us in our fight for life, if we found you at all. When Raven first spotted an Elf, last eve, we were overjoyed. Then, these zealous soldiers leapt upon us, unsuspecting, and we were brought here forcefully, bound with ropes. We, who have come to ask for your aid!"
Legolas bowed his head. "I am sorry for your treatment. You must understand that we also have suffered much. After our homes were destroyed, we fled, and have lost many of our number here in this dead place. Our sentries are ever alert, and any being that is not an Elf is regarded with suspicion. Most of us here are young, and have no real history with your races. Those who shared the time of the Rings with you have sailed across the Sundering Sea. Only myself and a few others truly remember the last alliance with Dwarves and Hobbits." He raised his shoulders, unable to better explain. "Please forgive us."
Raven looked up at him from under elegant black brows. "That depends. Will you aid us?"
"Follow me," Legolas beckoned. "Let us procure food and drink, and we will talk in good company of news that may either lighten your hearts or give you greater grief."
Turning on his heel, he led the Dwarf and the Hobbit to the dining hall, Telarion and Eredir following in their wake, bemused and somewhat chagrined looks upon their young faces.
After retrieving food and drink from the dining hall, Legolas led his guests to a sunny spot by the shores of the Sea of Núrnen. For many minutes they ate in silence, for the two travelers had not had much in the way of supplies left, and their bellies cried out to be filled. Gilmin looked about at the habitation of Núrnelven. "You have done much here. Only ten years, and already you have made this place your own."
"It will never truly be home," Legolas replied, "But we have made it the best that we could, given our meager resources."
"Could use some good stonework."
Legolas grinned ruefully. Some things never changed.
Raven dropped his hand, which had been about to stuff a roll into his mouth, and glared at the Elf and the Dwarf. "Must we discuss architecture? There are things of greater import afoot. You said that you had news, Legolas. I would like to hear it."
Almost, Legolas could hear the rumblings of Treebeard in his ear, hasty, hasty. This Raven was very young, and it seemed that he took the burden of leadership very seriously. Biting back the urge to chastise the young Hobbit for his rudeness, Legolas nodded. "I will tell you my tale. It unfolded not many days past…"
So he related the tale of Caldarion, and the fleeting hope which had been revealed to him. Gilmin listened intently, nodding his head in understanding, but Raven interrupted him on several occasions, demanding more detailed explanations.
At the end of the tale, the young Hobbit leapt to his feet. "You mean to tell me that the fate of us all rests in a woman? A woman who hardly knows how to use this power? Why did we bother to come here, Gilmin? This is no plan. This is suicide and folly!"
The sturdy Dwarf placed his hand placatingly on the arm of the irate Hobbit. "Peace, Raven. Have you a better idea? I can see the wisdom of this course. If we can seal Morgoth away from Middle Earth for all time, then we will be securing the future, not only for ourselves, but for our children and our children's children. Did we not come here to seek counsel and aid? It seems that counsel we have." He stood then and bowed towards Legolas. "My ancestor held you in great esteem, and I will trust in him. I offer you my services in this quest. If by my life or my death I can aid the woman Nimoë in completing her task, I will do it. This need is greater than any one of us."
"Thank you, Gilmin," Legolas replied simply. He turned his eyes to gaze upon the young Hobbit who stood, dark and sullen, returning his stare without flinching.
For a moment, the Elf Prince thought that Raven would turn on his heels and leave but, finally, the dark-haired Hobbit nodded curtly. "I have come this far. No one will call Raven Brandybuck a coward. I will see this quest through to its end. There should be at least one person with a skeptical mind among you, to see that you don't all get yourselves killed. I am with you."
Legolas smiled broadly. "I am glad to have the two of you here. I feel as if I am coming full circle. Come with me, and I will introduce you to Nimoë."
