"How was he?" squeaked Anne when she heard the news, and jumped on the bed.

"Not very pleasant," mumbled Irulan and massaged her face, thereby forgetting the make-up on it and giving her face a large smudge. Moaning with frustration she headed to the bathroom to wash it away.

"Legolas not pleasant? Are you insane, woman?!"

"You'll meet His Majesty soon enough and then YOU can tell me if I am mistaken," was the annoyed and muffled answer.

"He is a LEGEND, for Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Anne.

"And a stuck-up, irritating, arrogant…elf!" she spat, appearing with a towel at the entrance to the room.

"Aren't they all?" was the other woman's reply, together with a shrug of the shoulders.

"This one is beyond average in all those, I can tell you that," Irulan said and threw the towel back, walking to sit on the other bed.

"How does he look?"

Irulan glanced out the window, remembering her short but quite intense conversation. She shrugged and without looking back, said simply "Good."

"GOOD?! I heard him to be GORGEOUS!"

"Alright so he is gorgeous," moaned Irulan, waving her hand in dismissal. "Big deal! His other virtues surely overshadow that!"

Anne cocked her head as her eyes narrowed. "You really disliked him!" was the awed conclusion.

"That would be an understatement," Irulan groaned and threw herself back on the bed, to inspect the ceiling. A silence set in. After a few minutes she continued with a low voice, her gaze still locked to the ceiling: "I felt so…disappointed. I mean here I was, meeting THE elf…Legolas, for Heaven's sake! And he was so…distant. So rude. Downright damn RUDE! And I don't mean for an elf, either!"

"Well," sighed Anne then, lying back on her own bed, staring at the ceiling, too, "perhaps we expect too much. These are not the beings we read about in Tolkien's books, you know. They have been around too much. They should be expected to change…like everything else."

Irulan thought about that and found logic in it. And yet…a childish, romantic part of her wanted so much to believe that there were yet some things that were not stained with the dullness the world had faded into. And though elves had always intrigued her and convinced her that this was so, with every new meeting, it was also not impossible –or even probable- that she had been reading too much into things. That they were not as lofty and different as she wanted them to be.

"Well," she mumbled a moment later, stubbornly resisting on her dislike, "they could have at least change for the BETTER. Period!"

****

Irulan and Anne remained in their rooms, resting till the early evening hours. When darkness began to set, they got up and began the torturous procedure of getting dressed. Torturous, for neither had been amongst such distinctive company before and had no clue as to what kind of appearance would be more proper. Should they wear something serious? Something casual? Graceful? Or just plain? Anne went through every combination while Irulan simply rolled her eyes and decided that she was wearing her black cotton pants and her black shirt, and that was that! She left her hair free, though, knowing that elves had a weakness for that and told herself that she liked it herself like that and that she was NOT aiming to win their liking.

After that they stepped out of their rooms and began an idle walk around the castle, as excited as Alice in Wonderland. Irulan realized with dismay that the general decoration was rather sophisticated and that Legolas had an interesting taste that combined East and West, old and new, classic and modern. She had seen none of his other homes, of course, and did not know if they were decorated the same way or each in with a different angle and style (he had several in different countries, like most elves. Every couple of years the Firstborn would leave to another and stay there for a few years, only to go to the next a few years afterwards. That gave them enough time span to go on with their lives without making their servants, their staff or others suspicious about the fact of their never aging looks, for by the time they returned with a new name, many years later, there was no one left to recognize them).

Soon enough a servant found them and guided them to the room where the dinner would be held. When they arrived at the threshold to the chamber, Irulan hesitated for a moment, then under Anne's glance of assurance, took a deep breath and walked in, not sure what to expect and praying to the Powers above that she would survive this night. Not to mention the following ones.

At her sight, a soft whisper ran through the room, as the ones who knew or recognized her, told others who did not. She was, after all, the legendary Aragorn's kin. And though he had many, she was seen fit to be representing him in her generation. And perhaps more importantly, she was the only one in a very long line whom the Circle had failed to persuade and who had refused that status and chosen independence. How very ironic that even THAT was so Aragorn-like!

Irulan stood rooted, inspecting the room. Though many had not arrived at the castle yet –including Jonathan and Cate- the crowd in the rather large and fancy room was still enough to make her nervous. Her trained eye picked out the elves easily enough and asserted the fact that she knew none. She had met several dozen of elves in her life, but most were not of higher ranking and resided in the same city or country with her. These, however, were Circle members and had come from all over the world.

Then her gaze caught many familiar human faces, amongst which some were a relieving sight, while most were rather discomforting. Irene was there – a woman with light brown, curly hair and freckles. Tall and skinny as a stick. Irulan smiled at her and the woman smiled back warmly, nodding her head. Then her gaze collided with Elizabeth – shorter but quite dashing with blue-black hair and blue eyes. That one only wrinkled her nose and Irulan stared coldly back before she continued. Finally her looks collided with those of Michael, the most highly ranked human member of the Circle. And the first member she had met.

Several years earlier he had shown up at her door and persistently told a story about a secret society that was established basically to play a major part in the "guidance" of governments and people and about how Tolkien had written not fantasy, but only a fraction of the truth and how that truth prevailed even today – though known only to a select few. Irulan had listened with a patience that had surprised even herself, and had dealt quite maturely with this information. Until he had said that some of said elves were still living today, amongst us. That was when the rolling of eyes and the mumbled "Whatever," was replaced with a long, silent stare and an annoyed, edgy "WHAT?!" on her behalf.

It had taken Irulan surprisingly little time to adjust to such a reality. What had taken her time, was to accept her place in it.

The world became instantly a far more mysterious place after this knowledge, and for a while she was drowned in the bliss of it. She had visited the Circle branch in her city many times, taking advantage of their records and their library, to which she had complete access due to her status. She had read and watched and learned, gulping down this new way of things greedily. But the more contact she had sought with them, the more she became aware of their expectations from her – which was, mainly, for her to take her place in the society. Not to mention, under the tight control of the likes of Michael.

And exactly that, was what Irulan didn't want. Her relationship with the Circle reached a tense balance after that and this balance failed completely one day when someone called her a drifter and a coward, afraid to accept her responsibilities. "Just like Aragorn," he had added. And Irulan, who had until that moment not felt any connection to that name (other than liking his role in the books) suddenly, and to her own surprise, had felt incredibly offended on his behalf and an amazing sense of protectiveness had overcome her. The argument had grown further and further and finally had brought her break-up with the society and she had chosen to reject her place and her task, walking away from the seat reserved for her.

She and Anne did indeed meet a few other elves after that (it was easy to spot and approach them once one gained full knowledge and belief in their existence) and befriended some quite closely. Members of the Circle approached them from time to time yet again. But the distance prevailed, for Irulan wanted to hear nothing of their society and their work and their role in the world again.

She had not seen Michael for years now and the bitter expression on his face did not speak of friendship on his behalf. He had never liked her, anyway. From the start, he had only envied her and viewed her as a dangerous and yet powerful animal that needed a leash. A leash that HE should be holding. Irulan pushed her chin up, glared back defensively, then softly walked into the room and began the process of meeting the present company one by one.

The elves were kind enough and glided to her without hesitation, introducing themselves. Most human members remained aloof and distant and she did not bother to take the first step to make acquaintance. Barely had she gone through the introduction part, when dinner was ready and all seated themselves at the long table that was adorned with an incredible amount and variety of food. The servants, knowing that their presence was not wanted in such secluded dinners, vanished then and the company relaxed as everyone slowly assumed their real names and identities.

Dinner began tense. And though it warmed up after that for most, for Irulan it only became tenser. The talk of the night was, for both the elves and the humans, the incredible violence, brutality, greed and flaws of the humans. And what it did to the world. And to the populations. And to nature. And the rest of the living beings on the planet. She listened and listened and listened. And found herself frustrated as elves analyzed these traits with cool aloofness and humans only nodded like puppets, confirming when necessary and exaggerating when needed. She exchanged glances with Anne, who, observing her tenseness, several times leaned in to whisper a string of threats if she dared to speak up in reply.

So she did not. And ate. Then ate some more, unable not to listen to the conversation. Then drank. And drank more. Exchanged glances with Anne again. And finally it was simply too much. 'I am only human, damn it!' she told herself and at that point, it seemed the most reasonable explanation to all that would follow. And what followed, was not exactly one of her most glorious moments. "Why do you speak so about us?!" she said, speaking for the first time, and with a bitter tone of voice, too. That stilled the entire table as everyone's look followed hers to rest on the figure of Legolas.

Legolas, momentarily surprised at that and the fact that she was speaking to no other but him, remained fixed on her before he answered: "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I think you do," seethed Irulan, not caring if the whole table -adorned with elves and quite important humans- was witnessing the interaction. He looked at her blankly and that only served to make her more angry.

"Have I offended you in any manner, Lady Irulan?" he said finally, his voice gaining a softness and though it was tempting to give in to it, she felt not up for such virtues at the moment.

"You have offended me and my kind, yes," she spat then and the rustle of people shifting in their seats indicated that her words were not to be overheard.

"Pray explain," Legolas said with mild awe. As annoying as the situation was, it was something different and a part of him, that had fallen asleep in a comfortable slumber, woke up to it.

"Pray explain?!" exclaimed Irulan in amazement and ignored the soft kick she received from Anne. "You must be joking! I mean…from the very beginning of this meal I have been listening about the…the weakness…and shallowness, and incredible coarseness and cruelness of humans," she spat, beyond herself. "As a matter of fact," she said, releasing her fork and leaning back on her chair, "we sound lower than orcs, when you describe us, Master Legolas!"

A gasp ran through the table upon the mention of that word and Anne pursed her lips unconsciously, observing the frown, alarm, shock and surprise on the faces. Along with the amusement on some. Like Haldir, who was looking at Irulan with a fabulous smile on his lips.

"You must have misunderstood me," Legolas began then, but was –to his own amazement- cut off:

"I think not, Master Elf! You give me too little credit."

At that moment, something incredible happened. For her choice of words, her tone and just the way she said it, reminded him of Gimli so much that he took a sharp breath with the slap of it. Unconsciously his grip on his fork grew, whitening his knuckles as his blue eyes remained fixed on her, staring with suppressed and yet amazed disbelief and bewilderment. It had been easily years since he had recalled the Dwarf and the pain of such unexpected recollection was beyond anything he would imagine. His mind instantly tore into two, a part of it remaining at the dinner table, trying to shake himself awake while another part simply glided back to that incredible age. The age of joy. The age of friendship. Of great deeds. Great sacrifices and great gains. The age he had shared with the Fellowship. The years he had spent with Estel. And the travels he had enjoyed with Gimli. He swallowed, short of trembling and in his daze, failed to look away from the brown eyes of Irulan that spoke of fury and disappointment.

Seeing that he would not answer, she decided to continue. And this time diverted her gaze to the other elves at the table, gazing each in the eye as she spoke: "What should we call speaking so of humans when you have fought alongside them and FOR them? What, if not hypocrisy?" A whisper of disbelief ran through the guests, but Irulan ignored it. The disappointment was squeezing her heart, choking the words out of her. "You, who have DESERTED this place to us!" she spat finally and gained a far heftier kick by Anne.

"Speak no more, Irulan!" spat Michael then, and Irulan felt baffled by the anger in his gaze. She swallowed softly then cast her gaze down at her plate. And the Irulan she herself knew would stammer an apology and get up to leave. But a spell must have been cast on her this day. For she felt incapable of stopping herself as she looked up again:

"I will cease when I am finished," she hissed and it was Michael's turn to be surprised. Which was not a common thing. Irulan pushed up her chin and leaned even further back in her chair. "I came here hoping for a different environment from what the world has become. But found only disapproval for what I am. In other words, this place is no different from what I face out there every day. And though you might feel distinguished and more virtuous, I see but the very same flaws in you, that you criticize so mercilessly."

A silence set in then. And Irulan waited under the pressure of it, not daring to break it. Legolas was still locked on her, as was the majority of the table. But that fire in her veins refused to dwindle and die. She was about to get up and leave, thinking that there was no point in remaining, when Haldir suddenly spoke up: "You ARE indeed Aragorn's kin," he said softly and Irulan, momentarily surprised by such a comment, looked up to meet his clear and sincere gaze. That only served to confuse her further and as amazing as it was, finally managed to break the flames in her. She tore her gaze, looking at her fingers that were playing with the napkin. Feeling her protective shield fading, she swallowed softly and pursed her lips, suddenly very self-conscious.

"I'm afraid I have begun to doubt that," she said then, to her own amazement. She did not look up and no one dared to move as Irulan continued playing with the napkin.

Legolas failed to stop his observation of her. He tried to turn away from her. To close this chapter, to shut this lid and to let the box fall into the well of dismissal. He really did. Only Haldir was right – she was INDEED Aragorn's kin. He instantly recognized the fire. The spirit. The essence. The something that, over thousands of years, diluted as it may be, had traveled down and down and further down from person to person, to this mortal woman at his table. The something that had burned in the very eyes of his dearest friend. And for that moment, as far away Estel was now, lost in time, he was also here, sitting not too far from him.

He swallowed hard, trying to turn away from this discovery again. And failing once more. The dearest of times swam back to him and oh how he hated to remember it! How he hated the fact that it was beyond and behind him for all times, now! And yet…how he missed it! How the slightest reminder ignited both frustration and yet excitement in him! How it burned him with both longing and yet such indescribable joy!

In his mind, an elf turned around and locked gaze with him. He felt himself mesmerized by the fact that he wore the brown-green Mirkwood hunting attire and the war braid. So real he looked, a grim and yet sad expression on his so well known features. 'Did I really look like that?' he thought in amazement, stupefied by the vision. A breeze ruffled the hair of his twin as he shifted on his feet, right by the dark, yawning abyss that divided them. It mattered not. For even though they were apart, it was a glance to a time and a person he had ceased to believe in. And it stole his breath away.

"Nay," said Haldir then and broke his concentration. Luckily so, for Legolas felt most discomforted of such a strong vision that had come down on him so suddenly and without warning. "I have met Estel. And I can tell you easily enough…he lives in you."

At that, both Irulan and Legolas, baffled beyond measure, looked up to the elf as their minds floated in opposite directions.

"No way!" thought Irulan, unable to answer the statement in her daze.

"Indeed," thought Legolas, in awe of such a thing.

The only thing they shared was their strong, itchy discomfort that came with the discovery.

***

After that, the dinner table became silent and wary. Irulan silently cursed herself for being so damn impulsive and temperamental. At her age and status, she should really be a little more controlled! By the looks she was receiving from both Michael and Anne, she was not the only one thinking so. She sighed and continued chewing, the taste of the food evading her senses, even though it was of the finest nature.

There was not much left to converse upon and eventually dinner reached an ending. Legolas bid his guests to proceed to the library for coffee or wine and though Irulan seriously thought about apologizing herself and leaving to her room, Anne grabbed her arm and almost dragged her to the location.

She remained awkwardly standing, gazing up at the shelves of books. Any other day, the view would have taken her breath away. Today, though affecting her, it was not enough to distract her from her inner argument. She sighed and sipped her coffee as a shadow fell on her and she found herself nose to nose with a fuming Michael. They stared at each other for a long time. Finally he spoke, his voice as calm as ever, but edgy and sharp: "What, may I ask, was that, Irulan?"

Irulan sipped her coffee again and looked away. "I was being honest. Something wrong with that?"

"You were being rude. And yes, A LOT is wrong with that," he hissed in reply.

"So?" she said then with a low growl. "It was ME being rude. You have nothing to worry about. Your image was not hurt, I am sure."

He took a deep breath and pushed his chin up, still glaring down at her. "This circle has managed to keep respectful and civilized for longer than your brain can conceive," he said, his tone downright frosty. "You are in no position to scold elves. ELVES! And certainly in no position to scold Lord Legolas." She rolled her eyes in use of that title, but Michael continued: "Not to mention that in this occasion he happens to be our host. And very right, on top of that!"

"Now wait a minute-"

"I am not finished!" he hissed and Irulan halted, startled.

He took a small step towards her and stood towering above her. Irulan heard the silent, smooth conversations around her continuing, but could not look away from the green eyes of the man before her. "You were invited not for your wisdom, your insight or your knowledge. You were invited solely for your status and your lineage. This, and this alone!" He fixed her for another moment before he added: "At least you can TRY to be more worthy of it."

Her mouth fell open at that and anger brushed over her heart once more. 'How dare he?!' she thought in bewilderment, staring up at him, her coffee forgotten in her hand. And then he was gone. Which was terrible, because she was denied the chance of a response. What that response would be, Irulan did not know. Because mixed with anger was also a feeling of dread. The dread of knowing, no matter how rudely put, there was a truth to Michael's words. She was nothing more than Aragorn's kin. Invited only out of kindness and respect to his memory. She had no knowledge in these matters. And not to mention, less than a child compared to the ageless creatures that were residing here today.

Irulan swallowed and looked around her, suddenly feeling small and worthless. She observed the elves and men standing in groups, softly speaking, chuckling or listening with rapt focus. It was almost impossible to tell them apart - since elves were regularly undergoing plastic surgery to reshape their ears in the human fashion. They had discovered a long time ago that this was to their favor and that, with enough expertise and skill it was possible to undergo a surgery of this nature, and -with the proper care and medications- to keep the shape for several years. Their natural gift of healing eventually re-shaped the ear, but in the meantime they caused fewer eyebrows to rise and, well by that time, another operation was performed.

Nevertheless, seeing them together now and knowing which was which, Irulan found it rather easy to spot the difference. It was not the lack of facial hair. Not the flawless and smooth skin. Not the lithe build. Not even the long hair that, even after centuries, many refused to change (long hair was and would always remain a liking for the Firstborn, and though sometimes they cut it to blend in with their environments or to change their looks, many preferred to let it grow back at the first chance they got and often, when in a more comfortable environment, even let it flow freely or braided it in a peculiar fashion). It was not their expensive and tasteful clothing. Or their relaxed, yet alert stance.

It was simply…an air about them. An aura that humans lacked. Something that could be very easily overlooked by someone not knowing about their existence or their presence in a particular location, but easily detectable by someone else who was looking for it.

She sighed finally and placing her cup on one of the tables, silently left the library to go to her room. Eager to be left alone, she paced away in haste, unawaree that her departure was noticed by many, including Legolas, but was kindly overlooked.

***

Legolas remained in the library till everyone left. Elves needed very little sleep and most of his elven guests had remained till later hours with him. But eventually the conversations had come to an ending as they, with the patience of timeless creatures, saw no reason to talk about anything and everything in one single night, and glided to their chambers.

Only Haldir stayed behind, his fingers playing with the wine glass in his hand. Legolas sighed and exited to another room, and from there to a rather large balcony as his friend followed. They stood staring at the sky for many minutes. "I have forgotten how wonderful the night sky looks here," was Haldir's gentle comment.

"It is the rain," the other elf replied, not diverting his gaze from the stars, either, "and the lack of city lights, of course."

Haldir nodded softly. "Yes. And no. It is…perhaps the air here. To look up at the same sky from the same lands where my feet have stood, in the Old Days." He was not surprised at Legolas' lack of answer. The elf seldom engaged in any conversation related to the Old Days. One might have thought that he did not look back too fondly and tried to evade the idea on purpose. But Haldir knew better. Legolas was TOO fond of the Old Days, and in his longing, strayed away from the fierce fire it woke in him. "I am very glad of the cast, this year," he added, taking a small sip from his wine. "It is far more colorful than the former years."

"Indeed," was the cool reply.

Haldir smiled deftly, in assurance that the other man would not see, his back being turned to him. "It is good to see that Aragorn's flame did not go out, yet." He received no answer and no other form of response to that. "She is quite interesting, don't you think?"

Legolas turned to look at him, then, and his gaze reflected perfect elven blankness. "My pick of words would be different." He  placed his elbow on the railing and leaned slightly back onto it as the moonlight shimmered on his hair and made it look more silver than blonde.

The other man shrugged deftly. "You once admired Estel for his passion. For his vitality."

"She is not Estel," retorted Legolas, his eyes following Haldir's leisure walk to the railing beside him.

"Oh no! She is far prettier than that rugged Ranger," chuckled his guest.

The former Prince pursed his lips and turned away. As any elf, he was always alert and observant - about himself as well as others. And today that observance brought with it strange details. Details that needed to be inspected, placed together and then understood like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And that required a silent and solitary atmosphere. He did not like to talk about matters before that kind of mental preparation. For one thing, if he did, someone -especially an elf like Haldir- could lure him into a difficult or uncomfortable position, making him realize, do or say things that he would regret later on.

The notion of Lady Irulan was such a matter. The feelings and ideas that roamed in that particular territory of his mind were too mingled and somewhat strange to be conversed upon so soon. He detected anger, yes. And dislike. Definitely shock at her rudeness. And impatience with her lack of manners. Yet…there was something else there. Something that made him itch somewhat - itch with the foreboding that it was not a discovery to his liking, or the fact that it was so shrouded and hidden from him at all, he did not know.

"I like her," Haldir said then, breaking his train of thought.

"You like all of them," he replied with disinterest, joining the elf in his observation of the view, once more.

"And you like none." When Legolas did not answer for several moments, he continued, feeling a sense of naughtiness returning. It had been too long since he had felt in this manner. "I never saw you taking a beating like that, before." His gaze swept over the profile of his friend. "You barely attempted a defense. Was it because she was right?" he mused.

"No," said Legolas curtly. "It was because she is an ignorant child with no knowledge of the world, no sense of control and no manners. And I am far too old to engage in childish arguments. If not for the sake of her lineage, she would never be granted the right to attend a meeting like this. And that would be a far wiser thing. For both parties, I might add." As soon as he had spat out the last words with an edgy voice, he knew that he had made a mistake and walked into the very trap that he had tried to avoid. Because Haldir, who had, no doubt, picked up the anger in his voice -no matter how elusive- and who had also noticed him answering in more sentences and words than he would normally do, was looking at him with a very damnable expression that spoke of amusement and surprise.

Resisting the prominent urge to utter a curse and leave, Legolas slowly turned and faced the other elf, locking eyes with him in an unrelenting gaze. The duel lasted for a few moments. Finally it was Haldir who spoke up and his tone was laced with amusement. "You did not deny that she was right, Legolas."

He clenched his jaws then, taking a deep breath as his gaze swept over the green and lush view, that looked nothing less than exquisite under the light of moon and stars, but seeing none of it. "I will see you later, Haldir. Good night," he said and turning on his heels, left silently, disappearing in the shadows. Not aware that he had uttered the sentence in elvish and that he never did so, unless extremely confused or angry.

***

'She is not right,' he told himself silently, lying in his bed, his arms crossed under his head as his eyes grazed the ceiling. 'She is not right.'

It was simple. So why would that feeling of fooling himself not go away? Legolas, annoyed by such stubbornness, turned his head to look out of the tall window that held the moon. 'I DO like humans. I fought for them. Many times. I still fight for them,' he continued in his mind, eager to still the opposition in him and to put it to rest. And indeed, the fire seemed to dim a little at that. 'I risked my life many times, no matter how slim the odds stood in our favor. And I have never regretted it. Not once.'

Several minutes passed. In his mind, Irulan snorted and he felt annoyance rising up once more. She was like...damn it...exactly like...that impossible DWARF! That realization left him baffled for a moment, then made him jump out of his bed, walking back and forth on the soft carpet of his dim room.

"You elves are such proud creatures!" Gimli rumbled with that brassy voice of his, and how odd a thing the mind was – for after centuries, the memory of that abrasive voice had not diminished in detail, at all. Legolas smiled unconsciously, continuing his walk, but letting the past slowly set in, like an intoxicating smoke that glided into his lungs and brought back long lost visions.

"If you ask me, being in possession of such virtues and skill, I would say we are but humble," said Legolas with an amused smile, stirring the small fire.

"HUMBLE?!" was the thunderous rumble and the elf grinned at his friend's lack of vocal control. They were in the middle of a rather eerie forest, in a moonless night, foreign to the place, but Gimli nevertheless barked as if it was midday and a busy marketplace. "Even a dwaven woman would be humble compared to you. And that says a lot!" The elf shrugged and stepped away from the fire, sitting in the perimeter of it and watching the flames slowly grow. "Don't think we don't see it, you know," mumbled Gimli then.

"See what?"

"How you look down at us. ALL of us!" Legolas only stared back in confusion and the dwarf took out his piece of cloth to clean his axe, as he always did when he was in a nasty mood. Unknown to him, his friend had observed and realized this silly habit a long time ago. "You think you are so lofty! So…above all else!"

"But it is true," was the soft reply and Legolas laughed a melodious laugh when his head snapped up to reveal a very annoyed stare. The dwarf uttered some dwarvish curses, and thank the Heavens that Legolas did not know dwarvish, for the tip of his ears would have turned red, if he had.

"I am sitting here in the middle of nowhere with you, am I not?" he added a moment later with a softer tone to cool Gimli's temper. "Would I do so if I looked down at you, Master Dwarf?"

"Well…perhaps you dare not do so," was the rumble of a reply and evoked the raising of eyebrows as a reply. "Or...having come to know me, no doubt grew aware of my many unsurpassable merits!"

"Speaking of modesty," sighed Legolas with a smile, but Gimli pretended not to hear.

"Alas, you have grown to like me as a person. But how about dwarves in general, Legolas? Do you like them? Or do you presume to see men your equal?"

The elf did not answer and instead, lay down on his mattress, crossing his arms below his head and looking up to the branches above. "Some, I see above myself," he said slowly and both knew that he meant Estel.

"Some," nodded Gimli, feeling satisfied with his end of the argument and in no more need to polish his axe, tucked away the cloth. "You lost your nerve when you met Boromir."

"I have n-"

"And your first sentence to Eomer was actually a threat."

"Well he-"

"All in all," continued Gimli with a sigh, "throughout this trip I had to endure your complaints about the filth of humans and the insensitivity and noisiness of dwarves and the childishness of Hobbits." His companion's silence gave him the answer he needed. He grinned and proceeded to lie down on his own blanket. "And I myself have been treated quite rudely by your kind," he added then. "I'll never forget the looks you elves gave me at that council!"

Legolas gasped in shock and raised himself on his elbows to look in his direction. "You tried to smash the Ring of Power with your axe, Gimli. The RING OF POWER!" was his amazed and disbelieving reply.

"So?" the dwarf said curtly. "Would we have known that it did not work if I had not given it a try?" He disregarded the elf's dry look and continued: "Anyway. Elrond looked at me as if he wanted to grab my own axe and hack me with it! Not to mention that Haldir fellow! And you say we dwarves are rude!" His companion grinned deftly and lay back down at the memory. Haldir and Gimli had had the chance for many verbal duels in the past and each time Legolas had to bite his lips to prevent laughter from erupting. "The point is, elves are stuck-up creatures who have no advantage other than old age. Which makes them wretched and edgy, to begin with!"

"How ungrateful after we have fought so many battles side by side!" retorted Legolas with mock hurt.

"You do not fight side by side," was the dismissive reply, followed by a yawn. "You only help the less strong, for it is a matter of pride and self-congratulation for yourselves. You assume it to be your duty. To look after Middle Earth. To look after the 'lower' creatures here. Out of pity, Legolas. Out of pity."

Legolas shook his head and continued inspecting the branches above, which were rather clear to his elven eyes. He did not agree. Gimli simply misunderstood the good intentions of his kind. A few moments later he spoke up softly: "All aside, I have a question to ask."

"Ask away," mumbled Gimli.

"Did you just call Lady Galadriel stuck-up, old and wretched?"

Gimli barked another string of curses and turned his back to Legolas, whose melodious laughter once again filled the woods.

****