Chapter Six: Experiments

Gimli returned far sooner than Legolas had anticipated. He stood with a stalk of Elf-knife in his hands, eyeing the Elf in a funny manner. Having noticed this, along with the Dwarf's apparent reluctance to hand the stalk over, Legolas said: 'What is wrong?'

'How do you fair with this stuff?'

Legolas frowned. 'I know not,' he finally admitted after chewing his cheek for a time. 'I've always been given athelas. But – seeing as we have none of the said herb – Dimfornë is the best option that is open to us.'

Gimli surveyed the Elf for a time before finally shaking his head. 'No. I don't think you should have it. We Dwarves only use it in extreme cases, and even then 'tis weakened in tea.'

Legolas' eyes flashed with clear annoyance. 'I shall explain this to you slowly: I. Cannot. Walk. After the "examination" that you insisted on me carrying out, the pain is too great for me to use my leg without dulling my senses. We have to get back to the Fellowship – you were shouting at me earlier for "hindering our progress," and now that we actually have a way to make progress, you will not let me take it!'

'If this bark has a poor affect on you, what will we do then, hmm? We will be in more of a mess than a wasp stuck in honey!' Gimli had never been surer about anything in his life – the Elf would never be able to handle the Elf-knife in its purest form. Not a chance.

'Gimli,' Legolas began with a defeated voice. 'I would give anything right now to be able to bound up to the Fellowship like I was hopping on those rocks yesterday. But that will not happen. My injury is too severe for me to walk on it without the Dimfornë to aid me.'

Gimli gave a sigh. 'Is there absolutely no other way for us to get to the others without you putting this in your mouth?'

'No – unless you can conjure up a horse for us both to ride...'

'A horse? Pah! I would sooner live in a tree than go on the back of a horse!'

Legolas frowned softly, mock indignation on his face. 'There is nothing wrong with horses,' he said in a hurt voice. 'I've had some wonderful horses in my time – particularly Blazen... He was fantastic – spirited and energetic, a slight challenge to handle, but the best warhorse I ever had. Very capable and-'

'Legolas?'

'Yes?'

'You're rambling.'

'Sorry.'

Gimli extended his hand, though the displeasure that he felt for what he did showed clearly in his face, and he could not help the feeling in his stomach that told him he had just done something very wrong. Legolas took the stalk, offered Gimli a grateful smile, and peeled some of the soft bark away with his knife. He looked at the piece of bark he held before himself, Gimli's words resounding in his head. What if it did have an adverse affect on him? What, indeed, would they do? He popped it into his mouth all the same. We shall see...

He sat and chewed for a few minutes. The bark did not break up under the pressure his teeth applied but remained intact like a piece of unchewable fat. Its taste was bitter, and it made his tongue tingle slightly...

'Well?'

Legolas flexed his leg tentatively, and his eyebrows raised in surprise. 'It's gone!'

'What – no pain?'

'No anything,' Legolas responded. 'I can't feel the heat, the bone: nothing.'

'Good! Let's go!'

Legolas giggled. That was the first sign to Gimli that there was something wrong. The second was that the Elf swerved slightly as he walked, stumbling occasionally on the uneven ground. But the giggling worried him greatly – giggling was something that young girls did before they came of age, not hardened warriors.

Legolas giggled again.

'What amuses you so?' queried Gimli gruffly, trying to make himself sound normal and not even slightly concerned.

The Elf chuckled as he pointed an unsteady hand to the boughs of a pine tree not too far in front of them.

'What?'

Legolas sniggered. 'The squirrel!'

Gimli had a time finding the creature. When he eventually did spot it, however, he saw nothing remarkable or indeed even slightly amusing about it. It was sat at the base of a branch, watching them with cagey black eyes.

I knew I shouldn't have given it to him...

'Legolas, I demand that you spit that Dimr- Dimp- that tripe out of your mouth. Now.'

Legolas looked at him with bleary eyes, and it was clear to Gimli that he was trying to focus on him. 'Which one of you said that?'

Oh no...

'We all say it.'

Legolas nodded languidly at this as though it were perfectly normal, and spat the bark from his mouth as he was ordered.

'That's it,' Gimli praised the Elf, relief filling him at the fact that the Elf-knife was no longer able to influence Legolas further – but it was still in his bloodstream, and the Dwarven warrior had no inclination as to when the affects would wear off. 'Now. We are going to head in this direction and- Legolas, where are you going?'

The Elf was casually strolling between the trees, not taking the blindest bit of notice as to where he travelled...

A flat, snow-covered surface, so level that it could not possibly be land, stretched out for about half a mile before the Elf as he trudged along towards it, paying no heed to Gimli's frantic shouts coming from behind him...

'LEGOLAS! NO! STOP!'

Gimli watched in horror as the Elf sauntered onto the frozen lake, completely mindless of the peril he was in. The one thing that Gimli had previously loathed about the Elf and had fervently wished the other were deprived of had indeed now gone: his ability to walk atop of snow. Footprints created their shadows on the lake, brands on perfect skin.

And they were the only prints there.

'Legolas, come back – 'tis not safe!'

"Tis!' the Elf mocked, and he jumped.

And fell right through.

'LEGOLAS!'

Gimli hared across the land, caring not for the danger he placed himself in as he plunged through the snow, frantic to get to Legolas. Stupid moron!

The wind tousled his hair, sending it in brown flurries across his eyes, though he made no effort to stop it. Aragorn had perched himself atop a boulder, having located relatively decent footholds in its jagged surface, and now he observed the pass like an eagle on the summit of a mountain, watching with a patient gaze. How badly he wanted to go out there and look for them himself. Even if his search were fruitless, at least it would quell the seething anger that had lodged itself in his heart for his inaction. Gimli had injured his head, and Legolas clearly had attained some hurt or other, even if he had lied about it. He knew nothing of Gimli's abilities as a healer, but he knew of Legolas', and the knowledge of the fact that Legolas' healing skills were limited did nothing for his lack of confidence in their situation.

Pine forest stretched out endlessly before his grey eyes, an ocean of deep waves of green, sharp tips pointing at the sky like threatening pikes to an on-coming army...

He was dimly aware of another body scaling the boulder, and – judging by the scrape of a sword and clunk of a shield – he knew it to be Boromir. The younger man cursed softly as his weapon caught on the rough stone and nearly caused him a fall, but he wrenched it up and out of his way, finally lowering himself next to his companion.

Boromir too spanned the green sea, eyes squinting slightly in the sun's glare. He sniffed.

'They will come back,' he declared, confidence ringing in his tone.

'You do not know that for sure.'

A silence asserted itself between them and remained, causing Boromir to reflect upon his decision to come up here as a poor one. Still, he was there, and after the climb had been so awkward, he did not favour going down just yet...

'Tell me of your attachment to Legolas,' he suddenly breached. 'I wish to hear, and maybe learn a little – I am not academic like my brother, but perhaps you can shed some light on my ignorance of the Firstborn.'

Aragorn gave Boromir a long, searching look, and the Steward's son hoped fervently that Aragorn did not detect the fact that he attempted to engage the other's thoughts from those which clearly bothered him.

Aragorn turned his eyes back to the forest. Boromir thought that his request was doomed to be ignored, but, just as he was preparing himself for another uncomfortable silence, Aragorn began: 'We have know each other for more years than you have lived. I have never heard of an Elf attach his friendship so freely to a mortal before. Elves have a tendency to stay with their own kind, you see; they have developed a mistrust of the world that is deep-seated and near impossible to shift.'

'Why is Legolas so different?' Boromir queried softly.

Aragorn gave a snort at the question. 'I know not – there are some things that he tells not even me... I have a theory that it has something to do with my father. Something happened between them, but I know not what... When we first met, he connected himself to me during a rather reckless hunt I went on with him – he threw himself in danger's path to save my life.' Aragorn looked at Boromir again. 'Immortality is a gift, and all Elves know this; they do not usually willingly risk their valuable lives for mortals.'

Boromir pondered over this for a time, confused. He could understand the part about Elves and their immortality; were he so gifted, he knew he would certainly think twice before giving his life for a creature doomed to die anyway.

'They will come back,' Boromir affirmed again. The words sounded stupid to his ears, odd. But the Ranger beside him turned, and shocked the warrior with a small smile.

'I know.'