DISCLAIMER: You know the drill. I obviously don't own anyone in this story.
All I own is my computer.
SUMMARY: See first chapter
AN: Grumpy, thanks for the great review! Read on to chapter two and tell me
what ya think
Gimli, son of Gloin, lord of the glittering caves, sighed. He was currently traveling from his home to visit Legolas in Mirkwood. It was quite a journey from the Glittering caves to Mirkwood, but Gimli wasn't far from his destination now. Soon, in a few hours to be precise (according to Gimli's reckoning), he would be able to laugh and jest with his best friend again. If that wasn't an encouraging thought, to Gimli, nothing was. He smiled, his thoughts contradicting the previous ones that provoked the sigh. Gimli frowned as once again as his troublesome thoughts surfaced and brought themselves into focus.
He was thinking of Legolas's father. King Thranduil was a stubborn person. Gimli smiled slightly as he thought ' that must be where the elf gets it from'. Unfortunately, very unlike his son and more like most elves, Thranduil still held strong to prejudices against dwarves, despite the fact that Legolas held one in much favor, going so far as to name Gimli *elvellon. Or perhaps because of it. Legolas had been somewhat alienated from his father all of his life, and their relationship was strained. The death of Legolas's mother had not exactly helped matters, because she was just about the only bond between them. Another frown flitted across his face as he thought of the pain Legolas must carry. He loved his father, yet was pushed away. His friendships with mortals certainly didn't help matters much. Legolas would never say it, but Gimli knew he was saddened, he could see it in his eyes every time they were laid on Thranduil. That made Gimli cherish his friendship all the more, knowing that it wasn't easy for Legolas to keep it, but going against everything to do it anyway.
Suddenly the crackle of a twig snapped Gimli out of his thoughts. Not normally something to be truly alarmed about, but something hadn't felt right to Gimli since he entered the forest. He was a bit on edge. Gimli pulled Noran, his short brown dwarven horse up short. The horse's ears lay back, and it pranced nervously. If possible, Gimli felt even more nervous, and his eyes worriedly scanned the forest around him, every shadow seeming to be full of malice and bad intentions to his slightly anxious gaze. As it revealed nothing, Gimli laughed at himself for being so jittery, concluding that it was just a figment of his considerably tired mind, that he just needed some rest. Perhaps it was even one of those woodland creatures Legolas was so fond of. He shook his head and sighed again, falling back into his previous thoughts and coaxing his still apprehensive horse back into a smooth canter.
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Legolas was once again perched precariously on a tree branch, and for once, the trees offered the solace that they used to. Suddenly that particular solace was cut short as the trees began to shriek at him. Never had Legolas heard them so clearly, and for the first time he could actually tell what was bothering them. Unfortunately, it definitely wasn't good news.
**"Hin en' I' lasse' They called.*** "Hin en' I' orn, tel' naug cron na ed' saura cames...." Legolas quickly abandoned his previous position, whirling to place his hands against the tree, willing the ancient being to calm by clearing his own mind, even as he attempted to understand the trees through thehaze of his own alarm. The words 'Dwarf' and 'suffers' should never appear in the same sentence to Legolas. There was no doubt in his mind who the dwarf was the tree spoke of, as there was only one the trees would warn him of. The only one ever named elvellon by one of the firstborn with the gift of tree speech. Legolas forced his mind to calm and focused on the spirit inside of the deceivingly still being. One word was all they needed.
****"Manke?" The trees once again began to communicate with the elf, albeit in a bit more calmer state. Their slight calm did nothing for the panic that was welling within Legolas's heart. Fear for Gimli bit at his mind with the stinging bite of a whip.
*****"Nuin tel' orn en' nim, nuin tel' orn en' arnosta." Legolas was gone nearly before the tree was finished, not needing to hear the rest of the sentence to know where he was going. He had heard more than enough stories about his own birth from his father that it was fairly imprinted forever in his mind. Of course, that was before the rift between them grew. Now Thranduil never spoke of it, holding onto the fond memory of his wife as one holds to the hand of a dying love. Unfortunately for him, it was too late to physically do that.
Now was not the time to have any thoughts of his father, and Legolas pushed them to the back of his mind as lithe, strong legs flew over roots and vines, light boots following a well known path. The spot was some 9 miles out of the borders of the main kingdom of Thranduil, and Legolas frequently went there to clear his mind. He felt closest to the calming presence of his mother there somehow, knowing that was where she first laid eyes on her son and named him after the leaves that hung overhead. Legolas swallowed his slight grief at the thought of his mother, and hardened his resolve. Pushing himself to run faster as a feeling of urgency raced through him unbidden, he pulled his bow from his back, and aimed all of his senses outward. Iluvitar help anyone who gave him something more to grieve for this day.
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The hairs on the back of Gimli's neck prickled, and he thought he felt the sting of eyes on his back. He quickened his pace a little, nudging his horse to move faster. The horse was tired, so even moving as fast as it could go wasn't very fast at all. Just then, a low whistling sound was heard, and Gimli's thigh exploded in pain. He lurched forward from the force of it, and silently cursed his own memory as another whistling sound came and another explosion took place between his shoulder blades. After all of his dealings with Legolas, he should have known the sound of an arrow whistling through the air. These thoughts came from a scattered mind as Gimli pitched forward off of the horse, landing face first on the leaf strewn ground and rolling for a few feet before coming to a stop. He forced himself to his feet , and turned on unsteady legs to focus oddly swimming vision on his foe. His eyes widened slightly as he faced the odds, realizing the chances of him emerging from this fight whole. A dozen orcs, some with black-fletched arrows trained on him, others with scimitars and clubs in hand. Even as Gimli contemplated his fate, they attacked as one, the bow holders pulling swords from scabbards. Gimli felt very strangely sick, and shook his head to clear the fog that was settling on his mind, a sure sign unconsciousness was not far off. He wanted to welcome it, to get away from the burning pain of the two arrows in his body. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. Not now. 'No matter' he thought, and hefted his axe, preparing to fight until the end. If they wanted to kill him, he certainly wouldn't go without a fight. He bitterly wished for his best friend at his side, knowing with him and his deadly accurate arrows there twelve orcs would seem like nothing, even with him weakend as he was.
As the first orc neared him and prepared to strike, two white arrows suddenly came out of what seemed like thin air and embedded themselves in two of his foes, killing them on impact. Gimli turned, mildly confused, wondering why he had suddenly found himself in the crossfire. Unfortunately, that proved to be his undoing, as he didn't see the sword pommel swinging at his temple until it collided with it. Gimli stumbled, seeing stars race across his vision. Very soon after, the stars dimmed to nothing, and darkness overcame his consciousness.
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Legolas came upon a scene that shook him to the core. He looked upon his best friend, who had two black arrows protruding from his body, one in his thigh, and one in his back, yet he was on his feet, seemingly despite the facte that he was poisoned, judging from the sickly pallor of his face and the way he swayed on his feet as though he would fall over any moment now. Gimli faced a dozen orcs with scimitars and swords in hand. Legolas knew that Gimli would have no chance of overcoming this, not in the shape he was in. He had little time to wonder at the gall of his friend , because the orcs decided to attack, Dashing at Gimli with their weapons raised. Acting quickly, he strung and released two arrows, each finding its target between the eyes of an orc, taking out two of the orcs automatically. Gimli froze for a moment, apparently confused. Unfortunately an orc saw this and took the opportunity to swing its sword hilt at Gimli's temple with devastating strength behind the attack. Legolas exclaimed in surprise and anger, Sapphire eyes filling with rage at the treatment of his friend. He flew into the fight to protect his friend, using his bow to take down three more orcs before they reached him, leaving him seven to fight. As they got to close for bow work, he abandoned them in favor of his knives. He spun beneath the wild yet strangely controlled swing of an orc and stabbed its comrade squarely in the heart. He didn't even look to see the body fall as he spun back around and planted the knives into the back of the previous orc's skull, leaping over his prone body to get at another, circling Gimli to keep him out of danger. His knives glinted with the small amount of sun that filtered through the treetops as the sun began its descent below the horizon.
Legolas took down the first to last orc by way of thriwn dagger, then engaged in hand to weapon combat as he found himself with out a weapons. His quiver had been torn from his back along with his bow, and his daggers were planted in various bodies. He dived a high kick at the head of the orc he faced, then slipped it with a lightning fast move as it raised its sword to block the feigned kick. The orc went down, but swung its sword as it did so, leaving Legolas with a long gash from shouldher to forearm as a parting gift. The elf hardly registered the pain as he brought his boot down on the orc's neck with such force that he broke it.
As soon as his enemy had been dispatched, he ran to the fallen Gimli, scooping his weapons into his arms and resheathing his knives as he went, noticing the night rolling in. It was just plain stupid to be caught in the forests of Mirkwood in the night without weapons. He dropped to his knees beside his friend, murmuring an elvish prayer as he hoped he hadn't been to late. He gently rolled Gimli onto his back, and released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he saw that his friend was alive, albeit barely, but alive.
"Oh Gimli," he murmured in sympathy as he quickly scanned his friend's hurts. Gimli was deathly pale, his breathing ragged and uneven. His forehead was clammy to the touch, and Legolas felt an unnatural heat radiating from him that could only mean a fever. It was as he thought. Gimli had been poisioned. Looking around, he realized that Gimli couldn't have gotten all this way alone, so he called for any horse in the area in Sindarin. Almost immediately, Noran ran up to him, whickering that the dwarf was hers. Legolas quickly assured her he meant no harm to her master as he lifeted Gimli onto her back. The horse seemed to understand that her master wasn't in the best of states at this time, and she stood perfectly still as Legolas hefted Gimli axe in his hands and placed it before him on the horse. At that time, a thought struck him, and he dashed back to the battlefield, and ran to a black arrow that had narrowly missed him and lay harmlessly on the ground. He scooped in up and noted the sticky black substance on the end of it as he ran back to horse, sticking it into his quiver. If the tip were poisoned, it wouldn't hurt to have a sample that wasn't mixed with Gimli's blood on hand. With a spoken word, he urged Noran into a full gallop, despite how tired she was. Judging from the way Gimli looked, he didn't have much time. Legolas ran beside the horse, and struggled to keep his friend in this world. "Hold on, elvellon. Please."
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Legolas, Gimli and the gorse gained the gates of Mirkwood's stronghold in record time, and Legolas opened them with a muttered word. The trio were greeted by a few curious elves that Legolas brushed aside, lifting Gimli from the horse and bursting into the palace with him, calling for a healer. Two appeared from side doors, asking what was wrong. Legolas hurriedly explained the situation as he brang Gimli to the room that branched off of his, the one he normally occupied while staying in Mirkwood. He laid his friend upon the soft linens and pulled the black arrow from his quiver.
"I think it's poisoned. He fainted and feels feverish to the touch", he concluded, passing it to Salile, one of the healers. She raised it to eye level and examined the point.
"Certainly orc poison."She frowned. "But it's from Mordor or Isengard." Shock registered on Legolas's face at these words. Isengard had been destroyed by the Ents, and Mordir was also no more. His thoughts were shattered as Salile spoke again. "We must act quickly to save him." She summoned more healers to the scene, who set about reoving Gimli's clothing and taking the arrows out. A healer grasped Legolas's arm and pulled him to the side firmly but gently.
"That cut on your arm needs to be taken care of, my lord." He explained as he pulled various bandages from a pouch on his hip. Legolas's mind hardly registered any of this as he watched them working feverishly over his friend, his eyes never leaving Gimli's pale countenance.
*elf-friend
**Child of the leaf
***Child of the trees, the dwarf is harmed by foul hands.
****Where?
*****Beneath the tree of white, beneath the tree of royal birth
There goes another chapter for you!! Hey, I really wanna know what you guys think!! If you really like this story, you better review, or you will never get anymore! C'mon! It doesn't take that long!!!
Gimli, son of Gloin, lord of the glittering caves, sighed. He was currently traveling from his home to visit Legolas in Mirkwood. It was quite a journey from the Glittering caves to Mirkwood, but Gimli wasn't far from his destination now. Soon, in a few hours to be precise (according to Gimli's reckoning), he would be able to laugh and jest with his best friend again. If that wasn't an encouraging thought, to Gimli, nothing was. He smiled, his thoughts contradicting the previous ones that provoked the sigh. Gimli frowned as once again as his troublesome thoughts surfaced and brought themselves into focus.
He was thinking of Legolas's father. King Thranduil was a stubborn person. Gimli smiled slightly as he thought ' that must be where the elf gets it from'. Unfortunately, very unlike his son and more like most elves, Thranduil still held strong to prejudices against dwarves, despite the fact that Legolas held one in much favor, going so far as to name Gimli *elvellon. Or perhaps because of it. Legolas had been somewhat alienated from his father all of his life, and their relationship was strained. The death of Legolas's mother had not exactly helped matters, because she was just about the only bond between them. Another frown flitted across his face as he thought of the pain Legolas must carry. He loved his father, yet was pushed away. His friendships with mortals certainly didn't help matters much. Legolas would never say it, but Gimli knew he was saddened, he could see it in his eyes every time they were laid on Thranduil. That made Gimli cherish his friendship all the more, knowing that it wasn't easy for Legolas to keep it, but going against everything to do it anyway.
Suddenly the crackle of a twig snapped Gimli out of his thoughts. Not normally something to be truly alarmed about, but something hadn't felt right to Gimli since he entered the forest. He was a bit on edge. Gimli pulled Noran, his short brown dwarven horse up short. The horse's ears lay back, and it pranced nervously. If possible, Gimli felt even more nervous, and his eyes worriedly scanned the forest around him, every shadow seeming to be full of malice and bad intentions to his slightly anxious gaze. As it revealed nothing, Gimli laughed at himself for being so jittery, concluding that it was just a figment of his considerably tired mind, that he just needed some rest. Perhaps it was even one of those woodland creatures Legolas was so fond of. He shook his head and sighed again, falling back into his previous thoughts and coaxing his still apprehensive horse back into a smooth canter.
******************************************
Legolas was once again perched precariously on a tree branch, and for once, the trees offered the solace that they used to. Suddenly that particular solace was cut short as the trees began to shriek at him. Never had Legolas heard them so clearly, and for the first time he could actually tell what was bothering them. Unfortunately, it definitely wasn't good news.
**"Hin en' I' lasse' They called.*** "Hin en' I' orn, tel' naug cron na ed' saura cames...." Legolas quickly abandoned his previous position, whirling to place his hands against the tree, willing the ancient being to calm by clearing his own mind, even as he attempted to understand the trees through thehaze of his own alarm. The words 'Dwarf' and 'suffers' should never appear in the same sentence to Legolas. There was no doubt in his mind who the dwarf was the tree spoke of, as there was only one the trees would warn him of. The only one ever named elvellon by one of the firstborn with the gift of tree speech. Legolas forced his mind to calm and focused on the spirit inside of the deceivingly still being. One word was all they needed.
****"Manke?" The trees once again began to communicate with the elf, albeit in a bit more calmer state. Their slight calm did nothing for the panic that was welling within Legolas's heart. Fear for Gimli bit at his mind with the stinging bite of a whip.
*****"Nuin tel' orn en' nim, nuin tel' orn en' arnosta." Legolas was gone nearly before the tree was finished, not needing to hear the rest of the sentence to know where he was going. He had heard more than enough stories about his own birth from his father that it was fairly imprinted forever in his mind. Of course, that was before the rift between them grew. Now Thranduil never spoke of it, holding onto the fond memory of his wife as one holds to the hand of a dying love. Unfortunately for him, it was too late to physically do that.
Now was not the time to have any thoughts of his father, and Legolas pushed them to the back of his mind as lithe, strong legs flew over roots and vines, light boots following a well known path. The spot was some 9 miles out of the borders of the main kingdom of Thranduil, and Legolas frequently went there to clear his mind. He felt closest to the calming presence of his mother there somehow, knowing that was where she first laid eyes on her son and named him after the leaves that hung overhead. Legolas swallowed his slight grief at the thought of his mother, and hardened his resolve. Pushing himself to run faster as a feeling of urgency raced through him unbidden, he pulled his bow from his back, and aimed all of his senses outward. Iluvitar help anyone who gave him something more to grieve for this day.
****************************************
The hairs on the back of Gimli's neck prickled, and he thought he felt the sting of eyes on his back. He quickened his pace a little, nudging his horse to move faster. The horse was tired, so even moving as fast as it could go wasn't very fast at all. Just then, a low whistling sound was heard, and Gimli's thigh exploded in pain. He lurched forward from the force of it, and silently cursed his own memory as another whistling sound came and another explosion took place between his shoulder blades. After all of his dealings with Legolas, he should have known the sound of an arrow whistling through the air. These thoughts came from a scattered mind as Gimli pitched forward off of the horse, landing face first on the leaf strewn ground and rolling for a few feet before coming to a stop. He forced himself to his feet , and turned on unsteady legs to focus oddly swimming vision on his foe. His eyes widened slightly as he faced the odds, realizing the chances of him emerging from this fight whole. A dozen orcs, some with black-fletched arrows trained on him, others with scimitars and clubs in hand. Even as Gimli contemplated his fate, they attacked as one, the bow holders pulling swords from scabbards. Gimli felt very strangely sick, and shook his head to clear the fog that was settling on his mind, a sure sign unconsciousness was not far off. He wanted to welcome it, to get away from the burning pain of the two arrows in his body. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. Not now. 'No matter' he thought, and hefted his axe, preparing to fight until the end. If they wanted to kill him, he certainly wouldn't go without a fight. He bitterly wished for his best friend at his side, knowing with him and his deadly accurate arrows there twelve orcs would seem like nothing, even with him weakend as he was.
As the first orc neared him and prepared to strike, two white arrows suddenly came out of what seemed like thin air and embedded themselves in two of his foes, killing them on impact. Gimli turned, mildly confused, wondering why he had suddenly found himself in the crossfire. Unfortunately, that proved to be his undoing, as he didn't see the sword pommel swinging at his temple until it collided with it. Gimli stumbled, seeing stars race across his vision. Very soon after, the stars dimmed to nothing, and darkness overcame his consciousness.
************************************
Legolas came upon a scene that shook him to the core. He looked upon his best friend, who had two black arrows protruding from his body, one in his thigh, and one in his back, yet he was on his feet, seemingly despite the facte that he was poisoned, judging from the sickly pallor of his face and the way he swayed on his feet as though he would fall over any moment now. Gimli faced a dozen orcs with scimitars and swords in hand. Legolas knew that Gimli would have no chance of overcoming this, not in the shape he was in. He had little time to wonder at the gall of his friend , because the orcs decided to attack, Dashing at Gimli with their weapons raised. Acting quickly, he strung and released two arrows, each finding its target between the eyes of an orc, taking out two of the orcs automatically. Gimli froze for a moment, apparently confused. Unfortunately an orc saw this and took the opportunity to swing its sword hilt at Gimli's temple with devastating strength behind the attack. Legolas exclaimed in surprise and anger, Sapphire eyes filling with rage at the treatment of his friend. He flew into the fight to protect his friend, using his bow to take down three more orcs before they reached him, leaving him seven to fight. As they got to close for bow work, he abandoned them in favor of his knives. He spun beneath the wild yet strangely controlled swing of an orc and stabbed its comrade squarely in the heart. He didn't even look to see the body fall as he spun back around and planted the knives into the back of the previous orc's skull, leaping over his prone body to get at another, circling Gimli to keep him out of danger. His knives glinted with the small amount of sun that filtered through the treetops as the sun began its descent below the horizon.
Legolas took down the first to last orc by way of thriwn dagger, then engaged in hand to weapon combat as he found himself with out a weapons. His quiver had been torn from his back along with his bow, and his daggers were planted in various bodies. He dived a high kick at the head of the orc he faced, then slipped it with a lightning fast move as it raised its sword to block the feigned kick. The orc went down, but swung its sword as it did so, leaving Legolas with a long gash from shouldher to forearm as a parting gift. The elf hardly registered the pain as he brought his boot down on the orc's neck with such force that he broke it.
As soon as his enemy had been dispatched, he ran to the fallen Gimli, scooping his weapons into his arms and resheathing his knives as he went, noticing the night rolling in. It was just plain stupid to be caught in the forests of Mirkwood in the night without weapons. He dropped to his knees beside his friend, murmuring an elvish prayer as he hoped he hadn't been to late. He gently rolled Gimli onto his back, and released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he saw that his friend was alive, albeit barely, but alive.
"Oh Gimli," he murmured in sympathy as he quickly scanned his friend's hurts. Gimli was deathly pale, his breathing ragged and uneven. His forehead was clammy to the touch, and Legolas felt an unnatural heat radiating from him that could only mean a fever. It was as he thought. Gimli had been poisioned. Looking around, he realized that Gimli couldn't have gotten all this way alone, so he called for any horse in the area in Sindarin. Almost immediately, Noran ran up to him, whickering that the dwarf was hers. Legolas quickly assured her he meant no harm to her master as he lifeted Gimli onto her back. The horse seemed to understand that her master wasn't in the best of states at this time, and she stood perfectly still as Legolas hefted Gimli axe in his hands and placed it before him on the horse. At that time, a thought struck him, and he dashed back to the battlefield, and ran to a black arrow that had narrowly missed him and lay harmlessly on the ground. He scooped in up and noted the sticky black substance on the end of it as he ran back to horse, sticking it into his quiver. If the tip were poisoned, it wouldn't hurt to have a sample that wasn't mixed with Gimli's blood on hand. With a spoken word, he urged Noran into a full gallop, despite how tired she was. Judging from the way Gimli looked, he didn't have much time. Legolas ran beside the horse, and struggled to keep his friend in this world. "Hold on, elvellon. Please."
************************************
Legolas, Gimli and the gorse gained the gates of Mirkwood's stronghold in record time, and Legolas opened them with a muttered word. The trio were greeted by a few curious elves that Legolas brushed aside, lifting Gimli from the horse and bursting into the palace with him, calling for a healer. Two appeared from side doors, asking what was wrong. Legolas hurriedly explained the situation as he brang Gimli to the room that branched off of his, the one he normally occupied while staying in Mirkwood. He laid his friend upon the soft linens and pulled the black arrow from his quiver.
"I think it's poisoned. He fainted and feels feverish to the touch", he concluded, passing it to Salile, one of the healers. She raised it to eye level and examined the point.
"Certainly orc poison."She frowned. "But it's from Mordor or Isengard." Shock registered on Legolas's face at these words. Isengard had been destroyed by the Ents, and Mordir was also no more. His thoughts were shattered as Salile spoke again. "We must act quickly to save him." She summoned more healers to the scene, who set about reoving Gimli's clothing and taking the arrows out. A healer grasped Legolas's arm and pulled him to the side firmly but gently.
"That cut on your arm needs to be taken care of, my lord." He explained as he pulled various bandages from a pouch on his hip. Legolas's mind hardly registered any of this as he watched them working feverishly over his friend, his eyes never leaving Gimli's pale countenance.
*elf-friend
**Child of the leaf
***Child of the trees, the dwarf is harmed by foul hands.
****Where?
*****Beneath the tree of white, beneath the tree of royal birth
There goes another chapter for you!! Hey, I really wanna know what you guys think!! If you really like this story, you better review, or you will never get anymore! C'mon! It doesn't take that long!!!