Disclaimer: As usual, only the plot itself is my own. Anything else belongs to Tolkien.
Chapter VIII: Fallen Kingdom
As he walked through the last stretch of the forest, Gimli considered how much he had changed during the journey. At the beginning, he was fairly certain he would have grumbled incessantly at the mere thought of being guided by an elf – his father, Glóin, certainly was.
But that had been before. During the days that separated him from that other, less tolerant Gimli, he had had conversations with Legolas, their current guide, and Boromir, the Man who had come with them, on any number of subjects. Gimli had never thought he would count an elf as a friend, but there it was.
At that moment the elf himself ran back along the path, returning from his trip to negotiate passage for the dwarves through his father's realm. Gimli was shocked to see tears running down Legolas' face, but the Prince's next words brought a terrible clarity to things. "The Halls... in flames... smoke pouring out..."
Even Glóin, who had the most reason of them all to despise King Thranduil, was stunned into speechlessness by the news. Eventually, Boromir spoke. "Are there... were there... I mean, was there anyone left?"
Legolas shook his head. "I don't... I didn't go inside. I saw the smoke coming from the main doors and panicked..." Gimli knew from that precisely how shaken up the elf was. Unless he was in deep shock, there was no way he would admit to such weakness in front of the dwarves. He could see that his father had noticed this too, and was already seeking a way to exploit it. Rather than allowing that, Gimli spoke up.
"Then there may be survivors. They may have beaten off the attack and now be in need of assistance. We should go and check." He could see that his father was not pleased with this idea, so quickly added, "They will be very grateful, I'm sure." That comment, with all the gold it implied, immediately brought Glóin round to his son's viewpoint.
"Yes indeed," said the older dwarf. "Lead the way, Prince Legolas." He managed to make the title sound like an insult, but Legolas was still too stunned to notice. The elf merely nodded and wandered off down the path.
The group reached the gates of Thranduil's halls – the open gates, something which Gimli knew from his father's stories was a rarity in itself – to find the situation just as bad as Legolas had said. Smoke poured out of the arched doorway, and the grass step outside had been reduced to a muddy mess covered in footprints – footprints which all present immediately identified as those of orcs.
By mutual agreement, Glóin and the other dwarves stayed to guard the porch, while the elves that had gone with Legolas spread out into the forest to search for signs, tracks, or anything else of interest. Gimli, Legolas and Boromir went into the ruined halls, to see if they could find any survivors who could tell them what had happened.
Chamber after chamber they passed through, of many different sizes, but all stained black by the smoke from the fires that dotted the caverns. Everywhere they went the mutilated bodies of elves lay where they had fallen, few of them armed, and some still sleeping. This underscored exactly how fast the attack must have hit, and Gimli said as much to Boromir.
"Aye," replied the man. "It seems the orcs must have struck with a swiftness I have never before seen." He stopped there, but Gimli could read on his face the words he had left unspoken. I hope that they do not strike as swiftly at Gondor.
The dwarf was about to reply when from up ahead they heard a cry from Legolas and the sound of a bow being fired. Breaking into a run, they rounded a corner to see the elf standing in the corridor, bow still in hand, a giant spider lying dead at his feet. He was shaking all over, and on noticing their approach, said, "That room was my family's room. I was going to check, but then that came out. I... don't think I can go in there and check. Could one of you...?"
The question was unfinished, but both understood it. They both knew all about Legolas' family from the long conversations in the forest, and so could identify bodies as easily as he. "I will," said Gimli, and stepped over the spider corpse into the room. After a moment, he stepped out again, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Legolas."
The elf looked stricken. "All of them?" Gimli nodded. Legolas' shoulders slumped, and he fell back against the wall, weeping.
Gimli stayed with the grieving elf while Boromir completed the survey of the caves, finding no survivors. When Legolas was once again fit to travel, the trio returned to the entrance, where more cheerful news awaited them. The Elven scouts had returned, and had brought news of signs of the elves retreating to the east, along the river, towards Lake Town, and of signs that they had been pursued by the orcs and spiders.
Legolas nodded, his expression distant. "Then we must follow them, for with the demise of my family I am now King of these people, and they are my responsibility. Show me the path, and the rest of you, follow."
Despite the vague tone, the elf's voice had taken on a tone of command, and even the dwarves found themselves obeying him. The group marched onwards, towards the Long Lake, and war.
The story of Legolas, Gimli and Boromir on their trek through Mirkwood will be posted seperately. Watch out for a story entitled 'Friends In Time'.
Cloaked Eagle