Author's Note: Just for the record, I officially hate Spanish. Only two
more weeks of school, two more weeks, two more weeks, (notices readers
peering at her oddly and stops) Sorry, but I'm sooooo ready for this
semester to be over. Anyways, once the evil trials of school are over, I
will be able to update a lot faster, so just bear with me for the moment.
Be happy I was able to write this much when I should obviously be studying
for spanish, (glares) be happy! Okay, enough with the psycho talk, I am
not Tolkien and receive absolutely nothing for this (grumbles) so my only
source of income is the reviews. And you don't want me to be completely
spirit-broken, right? Right? Meh, whatever, new chapter, hope you enjoy,
and if so moved, review.
Chapter 9
A week's time later found Gimli pacing restlessly in front of the stone gates of Gondor, courtesy of his own handiwork of course. That was mainly why the dwarf suspected Aragorn had placed him out here, to be next to his own beloved stone and craftsmanship, a fact that Gimli was not entirely ungrateful for. His only problem as of the moment was his extreme boredom.
A whole week had passed since the last murder of the unfortunate young woman, and nothing else had happened. The townspeople were optimistic of course, or perhaps merely quick to forget matters that did not directly relate to them, either way there was hardly any talk of the possibility of a murderer and when he would strike again. The town had all but forgotten the horror it had been so recently subjected to. The guard was also waxing lenient in their duties, they assumed that the murderer had been a rogue, elf or otherwise, and that he had moved on. Gondor was not a place one would want to bother, they boasted to each other.
But where the others waned in their duties and abandoned their posts early for ale served at the inn, the dwarf dutifully kept to his own position. He had promised Aragorn that he would help all he could, and he would do just that.
So Gimli sighed and kept his axe hoisted over his shoulder, ever at the ready should he need it, and walked around the small path he had created himself from his tireless pacing around his designated post. Any person placed at the main entrance of a province was important of course, even though Gimli could not help but wonder over why he was not closer to the trees, the area where the murders had occurred. Surely he would be of more use there.
Yet Legolas was not posted there either, Gimli reminded himself, it was not as if Aragorn was trying to shield Gimli from harm. For if Aragorn thought the dwarf needed protection, Gimli would laugh himself senseless before rushing off headfirst on his own to find his own dangers. Gimli knew that the old ranger knew this, and that Legolas too would not react so kindly to such thoughtfulness, so that was not the reason for keeping his two friends away from the trees.
The thought of Legolas drew Gimli's attention away from his recent stipulations. He glanced up at the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars, and knew that the elf was within his own chambers. For strange reasons, Legolas insisted that he not be posted after dark and that he be given the night's time to rest.
Gimli remembered all too well walking in on the conversation between Aragorn and the elf over his odd request a week ago. He had been seeking out Legolas of course, hungry as always and wishing to have his friend accompany him to the dining hall. Sources had reported seeing the elf ask leave of the king and speak with him inside of the room he used for important conferences.
Gimli had not bothered to knock and had walked right in, overhearing Legolas explaining to Aragorn why he needed to be able to have nights off. Gimli caught the words, 'rest' and 'suffering from many trials' before the elf broke off and looked over to see Gimli standing in the doorway. He did not look all that surprised to see Gimli, but neither did he look too happy about it. After a brief glance, he looked back to Aragorn who himself looked extremely puzzled.
Gimli understood Aragorn's confusion even over the brief words he had heard. He thought he would never hear Legolas say 'tired'. Tired and the elf simply did not go together, and Aragorn thought the same way as the dwarf.
"If that is what you wish," Aragorn finally replied, "I hold you to no obligations of course. I merely ask your and Gimli's help because I feel you two are more valuable than most of the guard. You are free to take whatever positions you wish and also reject what you wish."
Legolas had nodded when Aragorn was done speaking and turned to leave, talking no more to the mortal king. He paused before Gimli, and once again the dwarf felt an odd sensation run down his back under the elf's gaze. He felt as though Legolas was not even truly seeing him.
"Wish to eat?" Gimli said after some hesitation.
Legolas moved his head slightly, and Gimli thought he saw his eyes focus a bit more and felt that the elf was truly seeing him for the first time since he had walked in. A breath passed before Legolas smiled automatically at Gimli.
"Of course," he replied and waited for Gimli to move aside and lead the way as usual. Gimli stared at his friend a moment longer, trying unsuccessfully to quell the uneasiness coursing through him. He felt as though he was in the presence of a stranger, and not that of his best friend.
Momentarily looking past the elf, Gimli regarded Aragorn. "I will see you in the dining hall?"
Aragorn lifted a hand in acknowledgement, but said nothing. He too was focused on the elf, his brows furrowed.
With a sudden desire to leave this room and its air of mystery, Gimli hastily turned and started off down the hall, knowing that the elf was following him even if he could not hear his light footsteps.
Gimli shook his head. He had not liked the feeling of the encounter at the time and he did not like remembering it now. Since then, he had barely seen or talked to Legolas. All he knew was that he dutifully held up his appointed post during the day but disappeared almost as soon as darkness began to fall. And he had not once been out in the woods, a place that Gimli used to often find his friend when seeking him out.
Gimli sighed and picked up his pacing again. Too many strange thing to think about lately, he would worry about it all some other time. Right now, his main worry was getting off of his watch before the inn closed so he could have an ale before retiring to his chambers.
Legolas paced as well inside of his darkened room. He did not bother with lighting the small lantern on the bedside table, he could see just fine. But his worries were of an entirely different kind than Gimli's.
As with the rest of the town, Legolas was well aware that there had not been anymore murders in over a week. Yet unlike the rest of the town, the good news did little to ease his spirits. The fact that the murders ceased when he confined himself was not comforting to the elf in the least.
Legolas still did not want to believe it, he could hardly think that he had been the one to do it. But since retiring to his room early every night, he had not had anymore of the mysterious black-outs and, of course, there had been no more murders. Legolas kept coming back to that little fact.
Halting his movement around the enclosed space, Legolas lowered himself onto the bed and sat on the edge of it, reaching down and pulling open the bottom drawer of the bureau next to the bed. As he had done for almost every night since finding it, Legolas pulled out the silver dagger. It's blade was dulled and stained with the dried blood that he had not bothered to clean off.
As he did every night, Legolas raised it to his sensitive nostrils, straining to read if there was another scent on it belonging to somebody else. But, like every other night, he could only smell his own scent. Whether it was from him handling it so much or because of the fact that it was his blood that laced around the blade, he was not sure.
But that had to be at least a little helpful, he did not detect the smell of human blood on the blade. He had not wounded the woman.
'At least with this dagger,' his ever-helpful mind told him. 'When does a trained assassin ever use anything but his own weapons if they are at his disposal? ' On an impulse, Legolas drew out his own long knife. The blade was smooth and clean with nothing marring it's surface, but he knew that that fact did little to provide for any evidence. He had been taught since he was first allowed to wield a blade that a true warrior took care of his weapons and always kept them clean and in pristine condition. A dulled and ill cared for blade could mean the difference between life and death in a fight. Even if he did not remember it, Legolas was sure that he would still automatically clean his own blade.
Ah, but he was also sure that he would never kill an innocent.
Resheathing his own knife and then placing the sullied dagger back into the bottom drawer and closing it, Legolas dropped his head into his hands.
He did not know what to do.
He could not figure this out on his own, everything he did seemed to backfire on him. Or everything he did simply meant that he was the killer.
Legolas shook his head and straightened, looking around the dim room as if searching for inspiration.
He wanted to speak with Aragorn, he had grown to trust the wisdom in the man and Legolas knew that he himself was in too much of a biased state to make up his own mind. Yet as much as he wished to confide in his old friend and seek council, he could not bring himself to do it. Aragorn would be appalled to hear such a thing from his friend, even if he too thought that Legolas would not have done it, it would trouble him just to hear of the elf's own torn mind.
Legolas was supposed to be strong, indifferent to emotion, and always with a clear head. He could not incriminate himself so.
And what about confiding in Gimli?
Legolas almost snorted.
It would break the dwarf's stout heart, and in doing so would break Legolas' own. Gimli would feel betrayed and shaken in the faith he had in his best friend. No, he could not tell Gimli either.
Maybe he should go with what he had thought about before and merely leave Gondor. Aragorn would be suspicious, sure, and Gimli would probably be angered, but what else could he do? He was definitely no help here, barricading himself in his own room and afraid of his own self to go outside and interact with others. At this point, he was doing more harm than good and creating unnecessary worry from his friends.
And he might be killing off a few of the locals.
Legolas rose to his feet, wanting to keep the surge of panic at bay. He started to move around the room again, as long as he kept his thoughts occupied, he would not lapse into the self-condemnation and the unsure feelings. If he kept himself moving, all would be well.
A few seconds passed before the panic melted away, only to be slowly replaced by anger.
Legolas came to a sudden realization.
He hated this.
He hated having to be confined and kept away from the woods. He hated not being sure of himself, he hated not being instilled with his usual confidence and worrying over his own thoughts betraying him. Where was the trained warrior now? Where was the cold and calculating elf who was always left untouched in battle, at least emotionally if not physically? At this rate, he would begin to grow suspicious of his own shadow.
Feeling a surge of defiance, at himself more than anything, Legolas stepped to the window. He raised the pane of thick glass with a single palm, feeling the strength surge through his arm at the simple act. He could have simply punched through the window if he so chose to, barely feeling the glass shards slice into his knuckles and forearm. It was an act of mercy that he restrained himself and opened it properly.
Patting his long elven knife to make sure that it was held securely at his hip, Legolas glanced once at his bow and quiver resting on the opposite wall, decided he did not need them, and leapt gracefully onto the windowsill.
Taking a deep breath of the night's fresh air, Legolas peered keenly out of the window for a few moments, making sure that nobody was within his sight. Satisfied that there was nobody out to bother him, Legolas jumped cleanly from the window and landed on the soft grass below without making a noise. Holding still for a few moments to enjoy the feel of the slight breeze blow through his golden tresses, Legolas started off towards the trees. He would go for a run through them tonight, and hold no worries over mysterious deaths and mental instabilities.
Chapter 9
A week's time later found Gimli pacing restlessly in front of the stone gates of Gondor, courtesy of his own handiwork of course. That was mainly why the dwarf suspected Aragorn had placed him out here, to be next to his own beloved stone and craftsmanship, a fact that Gimli was not entirely ungrateful for. His only problem as of the moment was his extreme boredom.
A whole week had passed since the last murder of the unfortunate young woman, and nothing else had happened. The townspeople were optimistic of course, or perhaps merely quick to forget matters that did not directly relate to them, either way there was hardly any talk of the possibility of a murderer and when he would strike again. The town had all but forgotten the horror it had been so recently subjected to. The guard was also waxing lenient in their duties, they assumed that the murderer had been a rogue, elf or otherwise, and that he had moved on. Gondor was not a place one would want to bother, they boasted to each other.
But where the others waned in their duties and abandoned their posts early for ale served at the inn, the dwarf dutifully kept to his own position. He had promised Aragorn that he would help all he could, and he would do just that.
So Gimli sighed and kept his axe hoisted over his shoulder, ever at the ready should he need it, and walked around the small path he had created himself from his tireless pacing around his designated post. Any person placed at the main entrance of a province was important of course, even though Gimli could not help but wonder over why he was not closer to the trees, the area where the murders had occurred. Surely he would be of more use there.
Yet Legolas was not posted there either, Gimli reminded himself, it was not as if Aragorn was trying to shield Gimli from harm. For if Aragorn thought the dwarf needed protection, Gimli would laugh himself senseless before rushing off headfirst on his own to find his own dangers. Gimli knew that the old ranger knew this, and that Legolas too would not react so kindly to such thoughtfulness, so that was not the reason for keeping his two friends away from the trees.
The thought of Legolas drew Gimli's attention away from his recent stipulations. He glanced up at the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars, and knew that the elf was within his own chambers. For strange reasons, Legolas insisted that he not be posted after dark and that he be given the night's time to rest.
Gimli remembered all too well walking in on the conversation between Aragorn and the elf over his odd request a week ago. He had been seeking out Legolas of course, hungry as always and wishing to have his friend accompany him to the dining hall. Sources had reported seeing the elf ask leave of the king and speak with him inside of the room he used for important conferences.
Gimli had not bothered to knock and had walked right in, overhearing Legolas explaining to Aragorn why he needed to be able to have nights off. Gimli caught the words, 'rest' and 'suffering from many trials' before the elf broke off and looked over to see Gimli standing in the doorway. He did not look all that surprised to see Gimli, but neither did he look too happy about it. After a brief glance, he looked back to Aragorn who himself looked extremely puzzled.
Gimli understood Aragorn's confusion even over the brief words he had heard. He thought he would never hear Legolas say 'tired'. Tired and the elf simply did not go together, and Aragorn thought the same way as the dwarf.
"If that is what you wish," Aragorn finally replied, "I hold you to no obligations of course. I merely ask your and Gimli's help because I feel you two are more valuable than most of the guard. You are free to take whatever positions you wish and also reject what you wish."
Legolas had nodded when Aragorn was done speaking and turned to leave, talking no more to the mortal king. He paused before Gimli, and once again the dwarf felt an odd sensation run down his back under the elf's gaze. He felt as though Legolas was not even truly seeing him.
"Wish to eat?" Gimli said after some hesitation.
Legolas moved his head slightly, and Gimli thought he saw his eyes focus a bit more and felt that the elf was truly seeing him for the first time since he had walked in. A breath passed before Legolas smiled automatically at Gimli.
"Of course," he replied and waited for Gimli to move aside and lead the way as usual. Gimli stared at his friend a moment longer, trying unsuccessfully to quell the uneasiness coursing through him. He felt as though he was in the presence of a stranger, and not that of his best friend.
Momentarily looking past the elf, Gimli regarded Aragorn. "I will see you in the dining hall?"
Aragorn lifted a hand in acknowledgement, but said nothing. He too was focused on the elf, his brows furrowed.
With a sudden desire to leave this room and its air of mystery, Gimli hastily turned and started off down the hall, knowing that the elf was following him even if he could not hear his light footsteps.
Gimli shook his head. He had not liked the feeling of the encounter at the time and he did not like remembering it now. Since then, he had barely seen or talked to Legolas. All he knew was that he dutifully held up his appointed post during the day but disappeared almost as soon as darkness began to fall. And he had not once been out in the woods, a place that Gimli used to often find his friend when seeking him out.
Gimli sighed and picked up his pacing again. Too many strange thing to think about lately, he would worry about it all some other time. Right now, his main worry was getting off of his watch before the inn closed so he could have an ale before retiring to his chambers.
Legolas paced as well inside of his darkened room. He did not bother with lighting the small lantern on the bedside table, he could see just fine. But his worries were of an entirely different kind than Gimli's.
As with the rest of the town, Legolas was well aware that there had not been anymore murders in over a week. Yet unlike the rest of the town, the good news did little to ease his spirits. The fact that the murders ceased when he confined himself was not comforting to the elf in the least.
Legolas still did not want to believe it, he could hardly think that he had been the one to do it. But since retiring to his room early every night, he had not had anymore of the mysterious black-outs and, of course, there had been no more murders. Legolas kept coming back to that little fact.
Halting his movement around the enclosed space, Legolas lowered himself onto the bed and sat on the edge of it, reaching down and pulling open the bottom drawer of the bureau next to the bed. As he had done for almost every night since finding it, Legolas pulled out the silver dagger. It's blade was dulled and stained with the dried blood that he had not bothered to clean off.
As he did every night, Legolas raised it to his sensitive nostrils, straining to read if there was another scent on it belonging to somebody else. But, like every other night, he could only smell his own scent. Whether it was from him handling it so much or because of the fact that it was his blood that laced around the blade, he was not sure.
But that had to be at least a little helpful, he did not detect the smell of human blood on the blade. He had not wounded the woman.
'At least with this dagger,' his ever-helpful mind told him. 'When does a trained assassin ever use anything but his own weapons if they are at his disposal? ' On an impulse, Legolas drew out his own long knife. The blade was smooth and clean with nothing marring it's surface, but he knew that that fact did little to provide for any evidence. He had been taught since he was first allowed to wield a blade that a true warrior took care of his weapons and always kept them clean and in pristine condition. A dulled and ill cared for blade could mean the difference between life and death in a fight. Even if he did not remember it, Legolas was sure that he would still automatically clean his own blade.
Ah, but he was also sure that he would never kill an innocent.
Resheathing his own knife and then placing the sullied dagger back into the bottom drawer and closing it, Legolas dropped his head into his hands.
He did not know what to do.
He could not figure this out on his own, everything he did seemed to backfire on him. Or everything he did simply meant that he was the killer.
Legolas shook his head and straightened, looking around the dim room as if searching for inspiration.
He wanted to speak with Aragorn, he had grown to trust the wisdom in the man and Legolas knew that he himself was in too much of a biased state to make up his own mind. Yet as much as he wished to confide in his old friend and seek council, he could not bring himself to do it. Aragorn would be appalled to hear such a thing from his friend, even if he too thought that Legolas would not have done it, it would trouble him just to hear of the elf's own torn mind.
Legolas was supposed to be strong, indifferent to emotion, and always with a clear head. He could not incriminate himself so.
And what about confiding in Gimli?
Legolas almost snorted.
It would break the dwarf's stout heart, and in doing so would break Legolas' own. Gimli would feel betrayed and shaken in the faith he had in his best friend. No, he could not tell Gimli either.
Maybe he should go with what he had thought about before and merely leave Gondor. Aragorn would be suspicious, sure, and Gimli would probably be angered, but what else could he do? He was definitely no help here, barricading himself in his own room and afraid of his own self to go outside and interact with others. At this point, he was doing more harm than good and creating unnecessary worry from his friends.
And he might be killing off a few of the locals.
Legolas rose to his feet, wanting to keep the surge of panic at bay. He started to move around the room again, as long as he kept his thoughts occupied, he would not lapse into the self-condemnation and the unsure feelings. If he kept himself moving, all would be well.
A few seconds passed before the panic melted away, only to be slowly replaced by anger.
Legolas came to a sudden realization.
He hated this.
He hated having to be confined and kept away from the woods. He hated not being sure of himself, he hated not being instilled with his usual confidence and worrying over his own thoughts betraying him. Where was the trained warrior now? Where was the cold and calculating elf who was always left untouched in battle, at least emotionally if not physically? At this rate, he would begin to grow suspicious of his own shadow.
Feeling a surge of defiance, at himself more than anything, Legolas stepped to the window. He raised the pane of thick glass with a single palm, feeling the strength surge through his arm at the simple act. He could have simply punched through the window if he so chose to, barely feeling the glass shards slice into his knuckles and forearm. It was an act of mercy that he restrained himself and opened it properly.
Patting his long elven knife to make sure that it was held securely at his hip, Legolas glanced once at his bow and quiver resting on the opposite wall, decided he did not need them, and leapt gracefully onto the windowsill.
Taking a deep breath of the night's fresh air, Legolas peered keenly out of the window for a few moments, making sure that nobody was within his sight. Satisfied that there was nobody out to bother him, Legolas jumped cleanly from the window and landed on the soft grass below without making a noise. Holding still for a few moments to enjoy the feel of the slight breeze blow through his golden tresses, Legolas started off towards the trees. He would go for a run through them tonight, and hold no worries over mysterious deaths and mental instabilities.