Part 8:
Same time as Aragorn is receiving Arwen's message (approximately):
Gimli sat along the edge of the riverbed, Bilbo's latest chapter resting on his knees. To his surprise, the hobbit wrote in a refreshingly honest and upfront manner-which often showed the author himself in a bad manner. Occasionally he would let out a chuckle, recognizing his father's distinctive voice among all the others. But, though he laughed, the story also filled him with sadness. He still missed his father and many of his friends.
As he turned the page, a movement to his left caught his attention. It was that dratted elf he'd met earlier, Thranduil's son. Out of respect for his host, Gandalf, and Bilbo, he'd avoided being around him and the other Mirkwood elves.
With an irritated sigh, he pushed the papers aside and turned to face him. Though it flashed by to quickly to be certain, he caught the surprise in the widened blue eyes. "What is it, elf?" He growled, instinctively reaching for the axe he knew wasn't there.
Legolas' brows lowered, for a moment, he was the epitome of consternation. "I did not mean to trouble your work, master dwarf. Please, continue."
"I am not pleased by your company, elf, so you may as well speak your piece and be gone."
"We are supposed to be allies," he remonstrated. "Gandalf has advised us to work out our differences."
"When Gandalf is here, I will work on it. For now, I would be elsewhere." Gimli angrily said, rising to his feet. For some reason, he was upset by the elf's calm manner. As though talking to dwarves was an every day occurrence for him.
Patience was a virtue learned over many years and Legolas was young by elfish standards. He had not as firm a control over his temper as he'd led others to believe. It was one of the few things he shared with his father. His grip was slowly slipping. "Middle-Earth is in danger and Gandalf does not have the time to spend playing the part of mediator for us. We have been selected to represent our people, is this how you want to be known? As a child playing at adult games?"
"Are you daring to lecture me on where my duty lies, elf?" Dangerously low, "as though I was one of your subjects?"
"I wouldn't want to do them any dishonor that way." Legolas snapped, unable to hold back. "You wouldn't get the point if I tired. That helmet of yours is almost as thick as your head."
A strange bark of laughter emerged from the dwarf. "At last, a real answer from you, not what you think I want to hear. I well remember you, Legolas Greenleaf. Be yourself around me, you might find it works better than the pomposity you've so far shown me."
Legolas shook his head, coming down to sit beside Gimli. Then he looked up, a challenge clear in his eyes. "Why do you say that, Gimli, son of Gloin?"
"It shows a willingness to become more than a visible part of the fight to save Middle-Earth."
"What do you mean by that?" Legolas stiffened, glaring at him.
"Don't tighten your bow string, but have you seen any of the other elves willing to stand up and be counted in the fight?" Gimli asked, shifting so that their eyes were more level.
"The times are changing. It is no longer the elves place to fight or decide the fate of Middle-Earth." The elf repeated words he knew and only partially believed.
"A pretty speech indeed, elf. Tell me, is that why your kind speaks in riddles? To avoid blame or responsibility for many of the calamities that have befallen the world?" The dwarf's question struck a nerve.
"It was not the elves who kept the ring." He pointed out.
"But it was an elf who led Isildur to Mount Doom. It was an elf who let him walk away with it."
"Are you saying a dwarf would've done better?" There was anger in the elf's voice now.
Gimli shrugged, searching for the right words. "I am not saying that. But I do know that we wouldn't have let him leave the cave with it."
"No. You probably would've killed him and taken it because of your fondness for gold." Legolas stated, not without some justification.
"We would not have let our affection for gold blind us to the evil in the ring. Part of what we treasure is the search, the hunting for it."
"Oh, of course." He interrupted, "The hunt. You accuse us of cowardice, but what of your own people's actions after the battle? Once the war was over and done, what did you do while my people rebuilt? Hide in mountains, digging into the land, that's what. You spent the intervening years searching for that all important, yet illusive treasure."
"Do you dare to presume to judge us when your own father values that self same treasure?" Gimli demanded, irritated again with the frustrating elf. "In fact, if memory serves me correctly, he nearly started a war over it. Demanding it as ransom from us-after he unjustly imprisoned my father."
"Are you fighting again?" An exasperated, but amused, voice asked from somewhere above them.
Legolas and Gimli were both startled to hear it. As one, they looked up and over at Elrohir. He was leaning against the bridge, watching them with a smirk on his face. "So, I managed to surprised the both of you. May be you aren't as ready for this mission as you'd like us to believe, little Legolas. It is bad form for an elf to be surprised like the common herd."
Forcing himself to relax, Legolas coolly smiled and answered him. "No. We are merely debating our various customs."
"Of course you are. It was silly of me to assume otherwise. Come inside when you've finished your.....discussion." Elrohir drawled, "Eomer has some news to share with us."
"Is it good or bad?" Gimli asked, having grown fond of the irritable human prince.
"I do not know. Elladan knows more about him and his secrets than I."
"How can he have news again so soon? Gandalf sent the new message just yesterday, I thought that it took a few days for the birds to travel from here to there." This question also came from Gimli.
"This is one the Lady Eowyn sent out on her own. From what I understand, the birds passed each other." Nodding once, the dark haired elf disappeared.
Gimli turned once more to the elf in front of him and snorted. "Why did you tell him that we were having a discussion? You know that it isn't true."
"Elrohir already thinks that I am unsuited for the task. If he knew that we were brawling, I would be sent home. I would imagine that Gandalf would send you home as well. Wouldn't you agree?"
Though it irritated him to agree with an elf-and a Mirkwood one at that, he nodded his bearded head.
"Besides, it is none of his-or any one else's-business what we do." He added firmly, "now, what were you saying before we were interrupted?"
It was much later when they joined the company of men. Aragorn had finally come to retrieve them himself, clucking to see them. "No one seeing you two would believe that you were talking."
"What? They only show in bright light." Legolas said defensively, turning away.
"I hope you are ready to leave. Elrond is about to see us off." Aragorn called after him, waiting for the nod before joining Boromir.
Elrond waited for them by the gate. Of the other elves, there was no sign. "Be true to the course you have set before you and I see that you shall meet with success. I do not, however, say that it shall be easy."
Dark eyes met every single pair of the assembled men, "Each of you bear's burdens that weigh you down. The darkness grows. It will haunt you. Fear will be your constant companion. Death will take many of your comrades. You are among strangers, traveling unknown paths together. But this adversity will give you strength, if you have the courage to meet it. Farewell."
One by one they turned away and followed Frodo down the path.
Eomer sent one last, longing look into the sky. He turned away with a sigh.
"I will find you, no matter where you are, Eomer. You will receive word from your sister no matter the distance I must travel." Elladan promised.
The look of gratitude said more than words ever could.
***
A few days into the trip, Eomer sought Aragorn out and found him idly chewing his pipe. "Aragorn, I apologize for my rash words."
Gray eyes widened only fractionally, he was surprised, though he knew he should have expected it and he nodded. "I extend my apologies to you as well. Your ways are not my own but it does not make them wrong. I sound awfully pompous, don't I?"
"To a certain extent, yes." Eomer closely studied him "You really don't have much experience with men, do you?"
"I have some."
"How so?" He was curious and it showed in his open face.
"I've lived among them." Aragorn's words were stilted.
"Just lived? You have never gotten involved emotionally, have you?" Eomer prodded.
"I try not to." Aragorn was uncomfortable now and it showed.
"One cannot live with us and just observe, a connection has to be there for anything to be learned. For anything to have been gained, something must be risked." Eomer shook his head, amused. "Now I sound pompous."
"What are the two of you doing? Trying to dig deeper holes for yourselves?" Boromir's amused voice asked, "If I could impose upon one of you, would you mind helping me teach the little ones a bit of sword play?"
"Would I be the victim again?" Eomer asked, nervously glancing at his friend.
"That only happened once, Eomer. I assure you, my aim has vastly improved since we last fought."
"It may have been once but I had stitches for weeks. Uncle Theoden," there was a break in his voice, "wouldn't let me near a horse for two weeks after they were removed."
"You and your horses." Boromir muttered, then teased. "It won't happen again. You can wear full body armor if it'll help you be less of a baby."
Eomer growled, "I'll make you eat those words." He strode down the hill, looking back up at him challengingly. "Well?"
"Works every time," Boromir smirked.
Aragorn shook his head, laughing at their antics. He stopped, shocked. It had been too long since he'd done so, he thought he couldn't feel carefree anymore. It felt good.
Same time as Aragorn is receiving Arwen's message (approximately):
Gimli sat along the edge of the riverbed, Bilbo's latest chapter resting on his knees. To his surprise, the hobbit wrote in a refreshingly honest and upfront manner-which often showed the author himself in a bad manner. Occasionally he would let out a chuckle, recognizing his father's distinctive voice among all the others. But, though he laughed, the story also filled him with sadness. He still missed his father and many of his friends.
As he turned the page, a movement to his left caught his attention. It was that dratted elf he'd met earlier, Thranduil's son. Out of respect for his host, Gandalf, and Bilbo, he'd avoided being around him and the other Mirkwood elves.
With an irritated sigh, he pushed the papers aside and turned to face him. Though it flashed by to quickly to be certain, he caught the surprise in the widened blue eyes. "What is it, elf?" He growled, instinctively reaching for the axe he knew wasn't there.
Legolas' brows lowered, for a moment, he was the epitome of consternation. "I did not mean to trouble your work, master dwarf. Please, continue."
"I am not pleased by your company, elf, so you may as well speak your piece and be gone."
"We are supposed to be allies," he remonstrated. "Gandalf has advised us to work out our differences."
"When Gandalf is here, I will work on it. For now, I would be elsewhere." Gimli angrily said, rising to his feet. For some reason, he was upset by the elf's calm manner. As though talking to dwarves was an every day occurrence for him.
Patience was a virtue learned over many years and Legolas was young by elfish standards. He had not as firm a control over his temper as he'd led others to believe. It was one of the few things he shared with his father. His grip was slowly slipping. "Middle-Earth is in danger and Gandalf does not have the time to spend playing the part of mediator for us. We have been selected to represent our people, is this how you want to be known? As a child playing at adult games?"
"Are you daring to lecture me on where my duty lies, elf?" Dangerously low, "as though I was one of your subjects?"
"I wouldn't want to do them any dishonor that way." Legolas snapped, unable to hold back. "You wouldn't get the point if I tired. That helmet of yours is almost as thick as your head."
A strange bark of laughter emerged from the dwarf. "At last, a real answer from you, not what you think I want to hear. I well remember you, Legolas Greenleaf. Be yourself around me, you might find it works better than the pomposity you've so far shown me."
Legolas shook his head, coming down to sit beside Gimli. Then he looked up, a challenge clear in his eyes. "Why do you say that, Gimli, son of Gloin?"
"It shows a willingness to become more than a visible part of the fight to save Middle-Earth."
"What do you mean by that?" Legolas stiffened, glaring at him.
"Don't tighten your bow string, but have you seen any of the other elves willing to stand up and be counted in the fight?" Gimli asked, shifting so that their eyes were more level.
"The times are changing. It is no longer the elves place to fight or decide the fate of Middle-Earth." The elf repeated words he knew and only partially believed.
"A pretty speech indeed, elf. Tell me, is that why your kind speaks in riddles? To avoid blame or responsibility for many of the calamities that have befallen the world?" The dwarf's question struck a nerve.
"It was not the elves who kept the ring." He pointed out.
"But it was an elf who led Isildur to Mount Doom. It was an elf who let him walk away with it."
"Are you saying a dwarf would've done better?" There was anger in the elf's voice now.
Gimli shrugged, searching for the right words. "I am not saying that. But I do know that we wouldn't have let him leave the cave with it."
"No. You probably would've killed him and taken it because of your fondness for gold." Legolas stated, not without some justification.
"We would not have let our affection for gold blind us to the evil in the ring. Part of what we treasure is the search, the hunting for it."
"Oh, of course." He interrupted, "The hunt. You accuse us of cowardice, but what of your own people's actions after the battle? Once the war was over and done, what did you do while my people rebuilt? Hide in mountains, digging into the land, that's what. You spent the intervening years searching for that all important, yet illusive treasure."
"Do you dare to presume to judge us when your own father values that self same treasure?" Gimli demanded, irritated again with the frustrating elf. "In fact, if memory serves me correctly, he nearly started a war over it. Demanding it as ransom from us-after he unjustly imprisoned my father."
"Are you fighting again?" An exasperated, but amused, voice asked from somewhere above them.
Legolas and Gimli were both startled to hear it. As one, they looked up and over at Elrohir. He was leaning against the bridge, watching them with a smirk on his face. "So, I managed to surprised the both of you. May be you aren't as ready for this mission as you'd like us to believe, little Legolas. It is bad form for an elf to be surprised like the common herd."
Forcing himself to relax, Legolas coolly smiled and answered him. "No. We are merely debating our various customs."
"Of course you are. It was silly of me to assume otherwise. Come inside when you've finished your.....discussion." Elrohir drawled, "Eomer has some news to share with us."
"Is it good or bad?" Gimli asked, having grown fond of the irritable human prince.
"I do not know. Elladan knows more about him and his secrets than I."
"How can he have news again so soon? Gandalf sent the new message just yesterday, I thought that it took a few days for the birds to travel from here to there." This question also came from Gimli.
"This is one the Lady Eowyn sent out on her own. From what I understand, the birds passed each other." Nodding once, the dark haired elf disappeared.
Gimli turned once more to the elf in front of him and snorted. "Why did you tell him that we were having a discussion? You know that it isn't true."
"Elrohir already thinks that I am unsuited for the task. If he knew that we were brawling, I would be sent home. I would imagine that Gandalf would send you home as well. Wouldn't you agree?"
Though it irritated him to agree with an elf-and a Mirkwood one at that, he nodded his bearded head.
"Besides, it is none of his-or any one else's-business what we do." He added firmly, "now, what were you saying before we were interrupted?"
It was much later when they joined the company of men. Aragorn had finally come to retrieve them himself, clucking to see them. "No one seeing you two would believe that you were talking."
"What? They only show in bright light." Legolas said defensively, turning away.
"I hope you are ready to leave. Elrond is about to see us off." Aragorn called after him, waiting for the nod before joining Boromir.
Elrond waited for them by the gate. Of the other elves, there was no sign. "Be true to the course you have set before you and I see that you shall meet with success. I do not, however, say that it shall be easy."
Dark eyes met every single pair of the assembled men, "Each of you bear's burdens that weigh you down. The darkness grows. It will haunt you. Fear will be your constant companion. Death will take many of your comrades. You are among strangers, traveling unknown paths together. But this adversity will give you strength, if you have the courage to meet it. Farewell."
One by one they turned away and followed Frodo down the path.
Eomer sent one last, longing look into the sky. He turned away with a sigh.
"I will find you, no matter where you are, Eomer. You will receive word from your sister no matter the distance I must travel." Elladan promised.
The look of gratitude said more than words ever could.
***
A few days into the trip, Eomer sought Aragorn out and found him idly chewing his pipe. "Aragorn, I apologize for my rash words."
Gray eyes widened only fractionally, he was surprised, though he knew he should have expected it and he nodded. "I extend my apologies to you as well. Your ways are not my own but it does not make them wrong. I sound awfully pompous, don't I?"
"To a certain extent, yes." Eomer closely studied him "You really don't have much experience with men, do you?"
"I have some."
"How so?" He was curious and it showed in his open face.
"I've lived among them." Aragorn's words were stilted.
"Just lived? You have never gotten involved emotionally, have you?" Eomer prodded.
"I try not to." Aragorn was uncomfortable now and it showed.
"One cannot live with us and just observe, a connection has to be there for anything to be learned. For anything to have been gained, something must be risked." Eomer shook his head, amused. "Now I sound pompous."
"What are the two of you doing? Trying to dig deeper holes for yourselves?" Boromir's amused voice asked, "If I could impose upon one of you, would you mind helping me teach the little ones a bit of sword play?"
"Would I be the victim again?" Eomer asked, nervously glancing at his friend.
"That only happened once, Eomer. I assure you, my aim has vastly improved since we last fought."
"It may have been once but I had stitches for weeks. Uncle Theoden," there was a break in his voice, "wouldn't let me near a horse for two weeks after they were removed."
"You and your horses." Boromir muttered, then teased. "It won't happen again. You can wear full body armor if it'll help you be less of a baby."
Eomer growled, "I'll make you eat those words." He strode down the hill, looking back up at him challengingly. "Well?"
"Works every time," Boromir smirked.
Aragorn shook his head, laughing at their antics. He stopped, shocked. It had been too long since he'd done so, he thought he couldn't feel carefree anymore. It felt good.