Author's Note: Once again I would like to thank all of you for sticking
with me through this story. Truly I would not be able to finish without
you guys, so thanks so much for the encouragement and kind words. With
that said, we actually are nearing the end. I am determined to finish this
story soon, due partially to the fact that I have a killer idea for a new
fanfic and I won't let myself write it till this one is done, but also due
to the fact that I think you guys deserve an ending soon! I've been
tormenting you for too long. So I'll just shut up now and let you read on,
enjoy!
Chapter 17
Gimli slowly felt himself being pulled to the surface of what felt like a calm and warm lake. He did not want to go and thought about fighting against whatever was pulling him, but then dismissed the idea. He was much too tired to put up any sort of resistance, no matter what it was. It did not matter that he was leaving the comforting confines of wherever he had been, he would face the new challenge with his usual strength and unmatched endurance.
But not just yet.
Gimli did not want to have to get up to face whatever it was that was waiting for him, but knew that he had to. And more often than not, he did things because he had to.
Gimli dragged open heavy eyelids.
All his previous languid thoughts of warmth and comfort and facing a new challenge shattered only to be replaced by confusion. He was laid out on what seemed to be a bed, but not one that he knew.
Gimli struggled to sit up, but a hand descended upon him and stilled his movements.
"Peace," said a familiar voice, "I did not expect you to wake so quickly."
Gimli's eyes focused on a welcome sight. "Legolas, what's going on?"
Legolas raised his eyebrows. "I was going to ask you the same thing. But before that, how do you feel?"
"How do I feel?" Gimli floundered. "What do you mean how do I feel? Why shouldn't I feel fine?"
Legolas moved so that he was at the side of the bed. "You have been unconscious for little more than a few hours now," he said.
Gimli sank back into his pillow. Maybe that explained the weird thoughts he had been having. "Was there a fight?" he asked.
Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed. "Not that I know of. You would have to be the one to answer that question." Then a kind of hardness came to the elf's eyes. "Why did you come back here?"
"Come back?" Gimli was feeling even more confused. He looked around his surroundings again. They were definitely not of a dwarven quality and he could only deduce that he was back in Mirkwood. But that was a good question, why was he?
Legolas sighed at Gimli's confused look. "Perhaps that is another effect of the wine, it happened to you last time. You lose your memory."
"Last time?"
Gimli's voice was so hopeless Legolas sighed again.
"The last time you drank the wine. Granted it was not a lot and it must have mixed adversely with the spider venom, but either way you temporarily lost your memory then as well. Now it's happened to you again, and though I suspect that you were given a lot more wine in order to sufficiently knock you out on its own, it still harbors some of the same effects."
"The wine," Gimli repeated under his breath. And at the thought, he felt something suddenly let loose in his mind. He remembered running through the paths of the forest, intent on following the elves that had been at the Lonely Mountain. And he had tracked them well and almost made it all the way before being set upon by three elves leaping down from the trees. There had been a brief struggle before one of them had forced a long draught of something from a water skin down his throat. And then he had woken up here.
"The wine is poison?" Gimli asked when his mind had cleared.
Legolas waved his hand as if is was unimportant. "Of course not. For elves it holds no danger, it only harms those whose bodies cannot handle it."
"And dwarf bodies are admittedly below those of elves?" Gimli asked, a sudden bite in his voice.
Legolas looked over at his friend, surprised at the sudden anger in the dwarf.
Gimli was continuing. "You knowingly gave me a drink you knew to be harmful to me, you did poison me."
Legolas stood. "No, I did not think of it at the time. I had never heard of its effects of dwarves. If I had known you surely cannot think that I would give it to you?"
Gimli felt his anger subside. Legolas seemed to be telling the truth, and no matter what had happened to them recently, he still had a deep-rooted feeling that Legolas never would hurt him.
Gimli dropped his head. "No, I don't think that."
Legolas sat back down, this time closer to Gimli. "Why did you come back to Eryn Lasgalen?"
Gimli looked up. "To find you, to tell you we need to stop this war."
"There is no war," Legolas said.
"There will be," Gimli countered. "You cannot tell me that your father is not considering it after what happened to Culhil?"
Legolas stiffened. "How do you know what happened to Culhil?"
"I saw his body," Gimli said. And at the look on Legolas' face he added, "Yet I was not involved in the fight. I did not come outside until it was over, and then I saw Culhil lying on the ground. I," Gimli faltered for a moment. "I thought it was you."
Legolas took a breath. "As long as the dwarves apologize for what they did then all will be well."
"The dwarves?" Gimli said. "How is it automatically the fault of the dwarves?"
Legolas' eyes flared for a moment. "What does it matter whose fault it truly was? As long as the dwarves atone for our loss..."
"And what of our loss?" Gimli said, his voice raising. "You say it does not matter whose fault it was, yet it matters that it has to be the dwarves to be the first to apologize? If the elves had not come onto our territory, none of this would have happened."
"And the elves would not have come to the mountain if I had been treated like a quest rather than a murderous criminal," Legolas snapped back.
As soon as he said it, Legolas regretted it. Gimli's mouth thinned into a severe line and a steely look that Gimli usually reserved for battle came into his eyes.
"Perhaps we should have never journeyed together outside of the duties of the Fellowship," Gimli said quietly.
Legolas felt a pang go through him at the words. It was a sharp pang and settled leadenly in his stomach, but he could not let it break his pride. Legolas straightened and held his head high.
"Perhaps," he said.
He then stood and moved towards the door. Before he went out, he paused, "If there is any war, I shall let you know. In the meantime you are not to leave this room, I will have to lock it."
Gimli said nothing.
At the dwarf's silence, Legolas opened and then exited through the door. Gimli waited, not moving on the bed. And then he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Filled with a sudden rage, Gimli picked up a delicate pitcher that stood on a low table next to the bed and flung it hard against the far wall. It hit and shattered into tiny pieces that scattered across the floor.
Becoming aware of a dull throbbing in the back of his head that signaled the onslaught of a head-ache, Gimli lowered himself back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.
Legolas walked swiftly down the halls, not knowing where he was going but not particularly caring either. He could not believe how Gimli refused to see sensibly. Legolas had saved him from being imprisoned in the dungeons, a courtesy he could say Gimli had not done for him, and even told him the simplest way to avoid an all out war between their two races. But it did not seem to be enough. The stubbornness of dwarves always had been and would continue to be the source of their downfall.
Legolas found himself before the doors of his father's chambers without even realizing he had gone that far. What was he going to do here? Go to his father and tell him he had been right all along, that the best thing for them to do would be to march out against Erebor as soon as possible?
No, he was not going to do that.
Despite it being a matter of pride between his father and himself, he still did not feel he was wrong in his faith in Gimli. Even with the anger running through him, he still recognized it for what it truly was, a feeling of hurt at Gimli's words. It was easier to be angry at Gimli than to be hurt by him.
But was he going to go back to Gimli and explain to him that he did not like what he had said?
Legolas snorted. He did not think so.
So Legolas did the only thing he could. He turned from his father's door and strode down the halls, making his way outside. He would do what he always did whenever confused or in need of peace. He would spend the night in the forest and let the soft murmurings of the trees soothe him.
And then, Legolas admitted to himself, when he was complacent again he would come back and find Gimli. And hopefully they would be able to bury all of this once and for all.
Chapter 17
Gimli slowly felt himself being pulled to the surface of what felt like a calm and warm lake. He did not want to go and thought about fighting against whatever was pulling him, but then dismissed the idea. He was much too tired to put up any sort of resistance, no matter what it was. It did not matter that he was leaving the comforting confines of wherever he had been, he would face the new challenge with his usual strength and unmatched endurance.
But not just yet.
Gimli did not want to have to get up to face whatever it was that was waiting for him, but knew that he had to. And more often than not, he did things because he had to.
Gimli dragged open heavy eyelids.
All his previous languid thoughts of warmth and comfort and facing a new challenge shattered only to be replaced by confusion. He was laid out on what seemed to be a bed, but not one that he knew.
Gimli struggled to sit up, but a hand descended upon him and stilled his movements.
"Peace," said a familiar voice, "I did not expect you to wake so quickly."
Gimli's eyes focused on a welcome sight. "Legolas, what's going on?"
Legolas raised his eyebrows. "I was going to ask you the same thing. But before that, how do you feel?"
"How do I feel?" Gimli floundered. "What do you mean how do I feel? Why shouldn't I feel fine?"
Legolas moved so that he was at the side of the bed. "You have been unconscious for little more than a few hours now," he said.
Gimli sank back into his pillow. Maybe that explained the weird thoughts he had been having. "Was there a fight?" he asked.
Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed. "Not that I know of. You would have to be the one to answer that question." Then a kind of hardness came to the elf's eyes. "Why did you come back here?"
"Come back?" Gimli was feeling even more confused. He looked around his surroundings again. They were definitely not of a dwarven quality and he could only deduce that he was back in Mirkwood. But that was a good question, why was he?
Legolas sighed at Gimli's confused look. "Perhaps that is another effect of the wine, it happened to you last time. You lose your memory."
"Last time?"
Gimli's voice was so hopeless Legolas sighed again.
"The last time you drank the wine. Granted it was not a lot and it must have mixed adversely with the spider venom, but either way you temporarily lost your memory then as well. Now it's happened to you again, and though I suspect that you were given a lot more wine in order to sufficiently knock you out on its own, it still harbors some of the same effects."
"The wine," Gimli repeated under his breath. And at the thought, he felt something suddenly let loose in his mind. He remembered running through the paths of the forest, intent on following the elves that had been at the Lonely Mountain. And he had tracked them well and almost made it all the way before being set upon by three elves leaping down from the trees. There had been a brief struggle before one of them had forced a long draught of something from a water skin down his throat. And then he had woken up here.
"The wine is poison?" Gimli asked when his mind had cleared.
Legolas waved his hand as if is was unimportant. "Of course not. For elves it holds no danger, it only harms those whose bodies cannot handle it."
"And dwarf bodies are admittedly below those of elves?" Gimli asked, a sudden bite in his voice.
Legolas looked over at his friend, surprised at the sudden anger in the dwarf.
Gimli was continuing. "You knowingly gave me a drink you knew to be harmful to me, you did poison me."
Legolas stood. "No, I did not think of it at the time. I had never heard of its effects of dwarves. If I had known you surely cannot think that I would give it to you?"
Gimli felt his anger subside. Legolas seemed to be telling the truth, and no matter what had happened to them recently, he still had a deep-rooted feeling that Legolas never would hurt him.
Gimli dropped his head. "No, I don't think that."
Legolas sat back down, this time closer to Gimli. "Why did you come back to Eryn Lasgalen?"
Gimli looked up. "To find you, to tell you we need to stop this war."
"There is no war," Legolas said.
"There will be," Gimli countered. "You cannot tell me that your father is not considering it after what happened to Culhil?"
Legolas stiffened. "How do you know what happened to Culhil?"
"I saw his body," Gimli said. And at the look on Legolas' face he added, "Yet I was not involved in the fight. I did not come outside until it was over, and then I saw Culhil lying on the ground. I," Gimli faltered for a moment. "I thought it was you."
Legolas took a breath. "As long as the dwarves apologize for what they did then all will be well."
"The dwarves?" Gimli said. "How is it automatically the fault of the dwarves?"
Legolas' eyes flared for a moment. "What does it matter whose fault it truly was? As long as the dwarves atone for our loss..."
"And what of our loss?" Gimli said, his voice raising. "You say it does not matter whose fault it was, yet it matters that it has to be the dwarves to be the first to apologize? If the elves had not come onto our territory, none of this would have happened."
"And the elves would not have come to the mountain if I had been treated like a quest rather than a murderous criminal," Legolas snapped back.
As soon as he said it, Legolas regretted it. Gimli's mouth thinned into a severe line and a steely look that Gimli usually reserved for battle came into his eyes.
"Perhaps we should have never journeyed together outside of the duties of the Fellowship," Gimli said quietly.
Legolas felt a pang go through him at the words. It was a sharp pang and settled leadenly in his stomach, but he could not let it break his pride. Legolas straightened and held his head high.
"Perhaps," he said.
He then stood and moved towards the door. Before he went out, he paused, "If there is any war, I shall let you know. In the meantime you are not to leave this room, I will have to lock it."
Gimli said nothing.
At the dwarf's silence, Legolas opened and then exited through the door. Gimli waited, not moving on the bed. And then he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Filled with a sudden rage, Gimli picked up a delicate pitcher that stood on a low table next to the bed and flung it hard against the far wall. It hit and shattered into tiny pieces that scattered across the floor.
Becoming aware of a dull throbbing in the back of his head that signaled the onslaught of a head-ache, Gimli lowered himself back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.
Legolas walked swiftly down the halls, not knowing where he was going but not particularly caring either. He could not believe how Gimli refused to see sensibly. Legolas had saved him from being imprisoned in the dungeons, a courtesy he could say Gimli had not done for him, and even told him the simplest way to avoid an all out war between their two races. But it did not seem to be enough. The stubbornness of dwarves always had been and would continue to be the source of their downfall.
Legolas found himself before the doors of his father's chambers without even realizing he had gone that far. What was he going to do here? Go to his father and tell him he had been right all along, that the best thing for them to do would be to march out against Erebor as soon as possible?
No, he was not going to do that.
Despite it being a matter of pride between his father and himself, he still did not feel he was wrong in his faith in Gimli. Even with the anger running through him, he still recognized it for what it truly was, a feeling of hurt at Gimli's words. It was easier to be angry at Gimli than to be hurt by him.
But was he going to go back to Gimli and explain to him that he did not like what he had said?
Legolas snorted. He did not think so.
So Legolas did the only thing he could. He turned from his father's door and strode down the halls, making his way outside. He would do what he always did whenever confused or in need of peace. He would spend the night in the forest and let the soft murmurings of the trees soothe him.
And then, Legolas admitted to himself, when he was complacent again he would come back and find Gimli. And hopefully they would be able to bury all of this once and for all.