~Chapter Two~
"Mmmm," Gimli said in his gruff voice, "This potato cake turned out very well for only using elvish cooking utensils." He burped loudly and went back to eating.
The long maple wood table was almost full with people. Aragorn and Arwen sat at the head of the table with Gimli at their right. To Arwen's left side was Faramir, Eowyn, and Eomer. Beside Gimli was an empty chair.
"Hmph," Gimli managed with a mouthful of potato cake, "Where is that elf? I don't suppose he is asleep still?" Gimli stabbed another forkful.
The wide wooden door flung open instantly. At the doorway was a tall elf.
"Legolas, where have you been?" Faramir questioned, taking a sip of water from his brass goblet.
"I was practicing my skill with a bow," Legolas responded, his dark, perfectly-shaped eyebrows moving as he spoke.
Legolas was an elven prince from the kingdom of Thranduil in Northern Mirkwood. His princely appearance could be denied by none. Legolas' sleek, slender body was well-toned, yet thin. His long, pale blond hair shimmered like moonlight. High cheekbones below his deep, soulful eyes added to Legolas' irrefutable beauty. His general appearance was graceful, but also quite masculine.
Pulling back the dining chair, Legolas lowered himself into it and immediately inquired as to what was being served.
"It's dwarf grub," Gimli informed his friend, "But you don't have to eat it. Only dwarves really like potato cakes."
"On the contrary," Legolas' voice rolled, "I am famished. Any food would more than delight me this morning." He gratefully received the heaping plate of cakes from Faramir.
Taking two fluffy potato cakes, Legolas elegantly took a small bite. His eyes widened.
"Excellent, my friend," Legolas assured him, "Your cooking is perfected to the utmost degree of skill." With a warm smile, he returned to his food, everyone at the table nodding in agreement.
When all present were full, stuffed to the brim with Gimli's special delicacy, the company divided and went about their separate ways in the palace. Aragorn remained with Gimli and Legolas, knowing that soon they would leave to enjoy Middle Earth's splendor.
"Shall you go first to Fangorn of Helm's Deep?" Aragorn inquired, lighting his long wooden pipe.
Taking a puff at his own pipe, Gimi responded, "Why, to the caves underneath Helm's Deep, of course."
Legolas looked to Gimli with suspicion. The dwarf put on a very innocent smile, as much as was possible for one of his fierce race.
"I do not recall us deciding that, Gimli. Why not explore the forest first? We might also visit my home in Mirkwood." Legolas leaned against the stone rail.
"I say you both decide who is more worthy of the first choice,' Aragorn suggested, a glint of fun in his eyes, "Who killed more orcs at Helm's Deep?"
"I am afraid that my companion holds that honor," Legolas conceded, "Although at Minas Tirth, I no doubt hold the record." His eyes glistened in the sun, their color unclear as either brown or blue.
"Then we go to the caves," Gimi proclaimed victoriously, ignoring Legolas' latter comment, "I shall pack tonight, for we have no time to spare."
"I shall be sad to leave you Aragorn," Legolas admitted, "I regret that if we go tomarrow, we may not see you for some time. The fellowship is forever divided, but I had at least thought the three most valiant warriors might enjoy companionship for a while longer." His last words brought a smile to Aragorn's kingly face. He blew a wave of smoke out toward the battlefield.
"We shall always in memory be joined," Aragorn closed his light eyes, "Our journeys together will not be soon forgotten by me."
"Nor I," added Legolas.
"Not me either," Gimli said through a pillow of smoke, "I think all our minds shall remain young to this adventure. Even those so far away." He remembered Frodo and Gandalf, now on their way to the grey havens.
"Well, no more of this sad talk," Aragorn lifted his thick brows, "Let us keep our memories joyous and dwell on happier things while we are still remain together."
"The battlefield is still dirtied with the foul blood of Sauron's slaves," Legolas commented.
All three stared out at the plains between the white city and Osgiliath. Piles of carrion and rotting flesh lay there still, drowning in rivers of flowing black blood. The fell odor wafted across the terrain with the morning breeze, sending chills down their spines. Huge piles of stained bones and the massive corpses of oliphaunts nearly ruined the view from the high peak of he city.
"What say we finish what we started," Gimli spoke at last, "Though Aragorn's kingly hands may be too pure to handle dead bodies, at least Legolas and I may bring beauty once again to Gondor."
Turning to look into Gimli's earthy brown eyes, Aragorn laughed.
"King or not, I may still partake in the same duties as my friends. Let us go and clear the ruin that has come upon us."
Determination in their steps, the three friends set off down the stairs for one last adventure together.
"Mmmm," Gimli said in his gruff voice, "This potato cake turned out very well for only using elvish cooking utensils." He burped loudly and went back to eating.
The long maple wood table was almost full with people. Aragorn and Arwen sat at the head of the table with Gimli at their right. To Arwen's left side was Faramir, Eowyn, and Eomer. Beside Gimli was an empty chair.
"Hmph," Gimli managed with a mouthful of potato cake, "Where is that elf? I don't suppose he is asleep still?" Gimli stabbed another forkful.
The wide wooden door flung open instantly. At the doorway was a tall elf.
"Legolas, where have you been?" Faramir questioned, taking a sip of water from his brass goblet.
"I was practicing my skill with a bow," Legolas responded, his dark, perfectly-shaped eyebrows moving as he spoke.
Legolas was an elven prince from the kingdom of Thranduil in Northern Mirkwood. His princely appearance could be denied by none. Legolas' sleek, slender body was well-toned, yet thin. His long, pale blond hair shimmered like moonlight. High cheekbones below his deep, soulful eyes added to Legolas' irrefutable beauty. His general appearance was graceful, but also quite masculine.
Pulling back the dining chair, Legolas lowered himself into it and immediately inquired as to what was being served.
"It's dwarf grub," Gimli informed his friend, "But you don't have to eat it. Only dwarves really like potato cakes."
"On the contrary," Legolas' voice rolled, "I am famished. Any food would more than delight me this morning." He gratefully received the heaping plate of cakes from Faramir.
Taking two fluffy potato cakes, Legolas elegantly took a small bite. His eyes widened.
"Excellent, my friend," Legolas assured him, "Your cooking is perfected to the utmost degree of skill." With a warm smile, he returned to his food, everyone at the table nodding in agreement.
When all present were full, stuffed to the brim with Gimli's special delicacy, the company divided and went about their separate ways in the palace. Aragorn remained with Gimli and Legolas, knowing that soon they would leave to enjoy Middle Earth's splendor.
"Shall you go first to Fangorn of Helm's Deep?" Aragorn inquired, lighting his long wooden pipe.
Taking a puff at his own pipe, Gimi responded, "Why, to the caves underneath Helm's Deep, of course."
Legolas looked to Gimli with suspicion. The dwarf put on a very innocent smile, as much as was possible for one of his fierce race.
"I do not recall us deciding that, Gimli. Why not explore the forest first? We might also visit my home in Mirkwood." Legolas leaned against the stone rail.
"I say you both decide who is more worthy of the first choice,' Aragorn suggested, a glint of fun in his eyes, "Who killed more orcs at Helm's Deep?"
"I am afraid that my companion holds that honor," Legolas conceded, "Although at Minas Tirth, I no doubt hold the record." His eyes glistened in the sun, their color unclear as either brown or blue.
"Then we go to the caves," Gimi proclaimed victoriously, ignoring Legolas' latter comment, "I shall pack tonight, for we have no time to spare."
"I shall be sad to leave you Aragorn," Legolas admitted, "I regret that if we go tomarrow, we may not see you for some time. The fellowship is forever divided, but I had at least thought the three most valiant warriors might enjoy companionship for a while longer." His last words brought a smile to Aragorn's kingly face. He blew a wave of smoke out toward the battlefield.
"We shall always in memory be joined," Aragorn closed his light eyes, "Our journeys together will not be soon forgotten by me."
"Nor I," added Legolas.
"Not me either," Gimli said through a pillow of smoke, "I think all our minds shall remain young to this adventure. Even those so far away." He remembered Frodo and Gandalf, now on their way to the grey havens.
"Well, no more of this sad talk," Aragorn lifted his thick brows, "Let us keep our memories joyous and dwell on happier things while we are still remain together."
"The battlefield is still dirtied with the foul blood of Sauron's slaves," Legolas commented.
All three stared out at the plains between the white city and Osgiliath. Piles of carrion and rotting flesh lay there still, drowning in rivers of flowing black blood. The fell odor wafted across the terrain with the morning breeze, sending chills down their spines. Huge piles of stained bones and the massive corpses of oliphaunts nearly ruined the view from the high peak of he city.
"What say we finish what we started," Gimli spoke at last, "Though Aragorn's kingly hands may be too pure to handle dead bodies, at least Legolas and I may bring beauty once again to Gondor."
Turning to look into Gimli's earthy brown eyes, Aragorn laughed.
"King or not, I may still partake in the same duties as my friends. Let us go and clear the ruin that has come upon us."
Determination in their steps, the three friends set off down the stairs for one last adventure together.
