Disclaimer- Middle Earth belongs to Tolkien, Agnes belongs to Pratchett, this story belongs to me, nyah nyah.

AN: When I uploaded the last chapter I had forgotten to go back and fix something (when Glóin is describing thunderbolt iron, he's supposed to call it Aule's Iron, and not Iron, silly omission on my part). So if you were confused when you read that part, I apologize and I fixed it.

Also, I have to admit that re-reading The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-Earth by Camilla Sandman (for the third time, but don't tell anyone that) was part of my inspiration for this chapter, because it was that story that made me truly understand the coolness that is Gimli.


Agnes and the Elves

Chapter 9 – Dwarf Bread

Agnes was normally awake before the dawn (witches generally didn't need all that much sleep), but due to the excitement and intense nature of the day before, she did not wake until well after the sun had risen.

Agnes sat up in her bed and took in her surroundings, noting from the amount of sunlight streaming in from her open window that it was nearly nine o'clock in the morning. Most people in her situation would first hope that the events of the day before were some strange dream, but again the witchyness and general pragmatism of Agnes' nature forestalled that kind of nonsense.

What Agnes did instead of wishing it had been a dream was watch the sunlight. Even the sunlight was different here. On the Disc, sunlight moved very slowly due to the strong magical field, the way the light moved had always reminded Agnes of pouring honey out of a jar: languid and golden. Here, the sunlight was like… well, striking a match: abrupt and somehow less comforting than the sunlight Agnes was used to.

Agnes watched the morning light for some time, relaxing as the sun warmed her blankets, before shaking herself and getting out of bed. As she washed her face and hands in the basin, she noticed that the dishes from her dinner had been taken away while she was sleeping. She felt guilty at this because no one ever waited on Agnes; she usually ended up waiting on other people.

Someone knocked on the door. "Agnes? It is Gimli." Called Gimli in dwarvish (obviously).

"Come in." said Agnes, drying her face with a small towel sitting next to the washbasin.

Gimli entered, a certainly-not-petulant expression on his face. "My father asked," by which he obviously meant told, "me to be your companion today."

"Thank you Gimli." Said Agnes, and she meant it. He did not look at all happy to b saddled with her, and she couldn't really blame him. Although he probably didn't have much else to occupy his time.

And so it was that Gimli 'accompanied' Agnes to a great hall with long tables and benches set up in it. He left her where she was standing with a muttered "I'll fetch us some breakfast", leaving Agnes to survey the room.

The hall looked like it could seat well over 200 people, probably enough to seat the entire house at formal meals, which breakfast was clear not. Elves sat in small groups throughout the room chatting with their fellows, dressed what looked like working clothes and eating out of bowls of what looked like oatmeal. Occasionally one of the elves would glance up at Agnes, and then go back to eating and talking.

There was a large dais at one end of the room with a single, beautifully carved, table surrounded by elegant wooden chairs.

The table for Elrond and his family, no doubt, thought Agnes. I guess lords are lords whatever world you're in, they always need to be above everybody else. Agnes approved of this. People like to say that they want to be in charge of their fate, but what they really want is someone to make the hard decisions and let them live in simplicity. People like to make fun of and/or chafe under a king, but are always secretly glad that no one is asking them to be in charge…

Perdita approved of lords and ladies sitting above everyone else too, but for a different reason: everyone looks up to the high table; the people up there are cool.

You don't think Magrat or Verence are very cool, thought Agnes derisively.

Yes, but Magrat is… Magrat. And Verence doesn't exactly have a very commanding air about him, does he? Thought Perdita defensively.

Perdita had a point, but Agnes wasn't about to admit that to her. Just then Gimli came striding out with wooden bowls of oatmeal for the both of them, saving Agnes from needing to respond.

Gimli gestured at the nearest table with one of the bowls he was clutching. Agnes sat next to the end of the table, and Gimli sat across from her, pushing one of the bowls in front of her across the polished surface of the table. Gimli began to eat without a word, and Agnes copied him resignedly.

Is he ever going to talk to me?

He doesn't trust you.

No one here trusts me, I'm getting rather tired of it.

The oatmeal was very good, without any husks and flavored slightly with honey. As Agnes ate, she admired the tapestries hanging from the walls, depicting a variety of scenes: battles, people doing daily tasks such as carving or smithing or cooking, and scenes which Agnes was guessing were historical. Every tapestry, without exception, was clearly a master's work.

If Gimli noticed her staring at the walls, he gave no sign. Scraping the last of his oatmeal up and swallowing, he pushed his bowl back slightly. "Are you finished?" He asked gruffly.

Agnes nodded (her mouth was still full), and Gimli rose from his bench. Grabbing his bowl and motioning for Agnes to follow, he marched off back towards the door he disappeared into when getting their food, directly across the room from where they had entered. Collecting her own bowl, Agnes hastened after Gimli through the door.

She entered into what seemed like a very noisy furnace (or more accurately, a gigantic kitchen with all its fires lit). One wall seemed made up entirely of fireplaces and ovens of different sizes. Elves (male and female) wearing aprons were scurrying back and forth and calling out to each other over the various sounds of a kitchen in full operating mode. All in all, it was deafening.

A harassed looking elf walked over to Agnes and Gimli, shouting at them to be heard over the din. Agnes didn't understand her, but her body language was pretty universal, it said: Whatever are you doing in my kitchen?! Can't you see how bloody busy we are?

Gimli snatched Agnes' bowl and hurriedly proffered their bowls to the irate elf, muttering what sounded like an apology. They beat a hasty retreat for the dining hall.

As they stepped into the relative quiet of the hall, Agnes thought she heard Gimli muttering "I am a blooded warrior; I will not be menaced by a cook with a rolling pin." He looked up at Agnes half irritated and half apologetic. "I'm sorry about that, it was much… calmer when I got out breakfasts. Apparently they've just been given word that Lord Elrond wishes there to be a feast tonight." His scowl changed quickly to a grin, "I don't think they appreciated the short notice."

Agnes chuckled with him, remembering the flustered-looking cooks but also relived that this seemed to have released some of the tension between her and Gimli.

"Tell you what," Agnes offered slowly, using this opportunity to make an offering of friendship to Gimli, "sometime when the kitchens are less hectic, I'll make you some real dwarf bread if you want it."

Gimli's eyes lit up. "You know how to make real cram?" he asked excitedly. "With real gravel and everything?"

Agnes nodded, puzzled that he had used the word for 'waybread' instead of 'home-bread'. But if there was gravel in it, it had to be the same. "I do. I'll have to substitute something for the contents of Nanny's catbox, but I'm sure I can manage something."

"How do you know how to make true dwarven cram?" Gimli asked, reverting back to his suspicion of her. "It is a secret of my kind."

"I… I think that the relations between Men and Dwarves are… easier where I am from." Agnes explained cautiously, trying to draw Gimli out of his suspicions again. "But most Men don't know the recipe," She added, "I think one of the ole women in my village was the only one who knew, and she taught it to me."

Gimli looked relieved that the recipe for dwarf bread wasn't too common. Agnes felt relieved that he didn't seem too suspicious of her anymore (no dwarf can be too doubtful of someone who can make genuine dwarf bread). Now all Agnes had to do was actually make it, and maybe she would have a friend in this strange place.


Agnes and Gimli tried to go back into the kitchens to ask when there would be an oven available, but were immediately chased out by a frazzled-looking elf.

Agnes promised that she would make the dwarf bread tomorrow, but Gimli muttered something about 'not being available for most of the day' tomorrow, so Agnes promised to do it the next day. Wondering what exactly Gimli was doing tomorrow, and why he wouldn't talk about it.

Luckily for Agnes, just the thought of the promised dwarf bread made Gimli pretty cheerful. He showed Agnes around Elrond's home, despite his not really knowing his way either.

This of course resulted in the both of them getting lost in the woods for the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, but since it was such a nice day neither of them really minded. Gimli quizzed Agnes on the dwarves of the Disc, which Agnes answered as best as she could.

Agnes asked some general questions, which Gimli answered willingly enough. But when she asked him why he was in the home of an elf, he wouldn't answer.

"Shouldn't talk about it now, lass." Was all he would say.

Thankfully an elf happened across them in the woods around 3 o'clock and pointed them in the right direction to the Last Homely House. Gimli walked Agnes back to her room and told her that the feast would likely begin shortly, and (tactfully) suggested that she should wash up before hand. He left her in her room, presumably going off to do the same as she.

Why was he here, surrounded by elves that obviously made him uncomfortable? It was most curious.