Rain drizzled softly down onto the green boughs of the forest from the grey sky above. Its soft hiss filled the forest air as a gentle mist fell through the thick canopy to the forest floor far below. Riding side-by-side along a path weaving through the ancient oak trees, two cloaked riders made their way trudgingly through the misty rain. Both of the riders' hoods were drawn low over their faces, trying to divert the falling rain from running into their eyes. A bow and quiver full of arrows were slung over each of their backs. The dull glint of sheathed swords poked out from under their light grey cloaks every now and again as the two rode headlong into the brisk, rain-laced wind that blew around them, snapping their water-sodden garments in the air.
The horses the two rode were strong and swift, clear results of carefully selective breeding and excellent equine bloodlines. But the riders could not be seen utilizing any kind of tack or bridle in the riding of these proud and beautiful creatures with silky soft coats and long flowing manes and tails. Besides the riders themselves, all else on the horses' backs were two sets of saddlebags and water-skins hanging over the base of their necks.
"Brother, when we return home, it will be you that explains our tardiness to father," grumbled one of the riders from beneath his hood as he addressed his cloaked companion riding beside him.
"Why must I be the one to tell him? It wasn't my suggestion to take the northern path through the mountains. I was totally against your "shortcut" – as you called it – from the very beginning. Why should I have to be the one that explains to father why we are over a week late for the Gathering?"
"It is just as much your fault as it was mine, dear sibling. As I do recall, it was because of your untimely trepidation of crossing that river that we lost two days trying to find you a "suitable" place to cross where you wouldn't get your feet too wet."
"Elladan, there were shallow rapids there! You are thicker in the head than I ever thought if you think we could have crossed there. And with two pack-laden horses no less! It is lucky for you that I did not listen to you, or all that dead grey matter between your ears would have sunk you straight to the bottom of the river like a stone!" Elrohir cried, affronted by his identical twin's gull and temerity.
"Nonsense," Elladan snorted indignantly, "Even with the horses we could have easily crossed that river and been home over two days ago. If it wasn't for you and all your childish whining, we could be home right now enjoying a warm fireplace instead of trekking through the mountains in the rain. Therefore, it is your fault and your place to apologize to father for not being present for the start of the feast."
"You are worse than a tavern hustler from Bree!" the younger of the two elven twins exclaimed, "I will not take the blame for your involvement in all of this! It was your brilliant idea that we should volunteer to go and inspect one of the northern border patrols for father, and then go for a short hunting trip on the way back in the first place! I knew something like this was going to happen. I told you that it was not a good idea with only a week before the feast, but did you listen to me? No! Of course not!"
"No one held a sword to your throat to come," Elladan shot back defensively.
Ignoring his brother's point, Elrohir continued on as if he hadn't even heard him, "And not only did you get us lost in the mountains with your stupid shortcut, but we probably have missed all the feasting and everyone else there! I wanted to see Legolas, Gimli, and the Hobbits again, but we may as well just take another 'short hunting trip' because they'll all have left by the time we reach Rivendell!"
Elrohir was so agitated by now, he was unconsciously wringing a section of his horse's rain-drenched mane between his fingers as he glared daggers at his brother out of the corner of his eyes.
"Now now, brother," Elladan chided calmly, keeping his cool to purposely aggravate his sibling even more, "Anger will get you nowhere. I am sure none of our guests will have left yet. I have it on good authority that Legolas and Gimli were planning to stay in Rivendell for a month or so. And I doubt the Hobbits will have departed just yet either. So just calm that temper of yours a bit and enjoy the ride back." The older twin then straightened in his saddle, as if asserting his superiority over his brother by being the voice of reason.
Elrohir gritted his teeth in annoyance. He hated it when Elladan tried to play the older, wiser sibling. Elladan was only ten minutes older than him, yet at times he would try and act as though he were two thousand years his senior.
"I will not take the blame for your own indiscretion," Elrohir muttered under his breath, "Father will not be pleased for our tardiness, and I will not be the one to have my ears taken off by his lectures."
Elladan gracefully swayed to the rhythm of his horse's gait as he sat mulling over the problem still at hand. He did not want to have to take the blame and hear Elrond's scolding any more than his brother did. The gentle hiss of falling rain filled the silent void as Elladan pondered their predicament. Finally an idea popped into the elf's head. "What say you to a race?"
"What?"
"A race. The last to the designated finish line will be the one to apologize to father and take the blame for the both of us and endure whatever verbal thrashing there is to follow."
Elrohir eyed his brother in a moment of thoughtful silence. Giving his bay-colored horse a soft tap on the side of the neck, Elrohir signaled to the animal to stop. He did not need any harsh bit or bridle to do so; Elves rarely needed such things when they shared such an intimate bond with Nature and all her living creatures. Elladan also pulled in his mount as he came to a halt beside his twin.
"A race could be a very interesting way to settle this," Elrohir said with a mischievous smile. The younger of the two dark-haired elves scanned the forested path ahead. They were now perhaps two, three hours away from the northern gate of Rivendell, and were well acquainted with the mountainous area they were now in. "Where shall we race to," he asked, turning his ancient grey eyes back onto the older, mirror image of himself.
"Hmm... To the creek?" Elladan suggested in reference to a small brook that flowed past the elven trail the brothers were on about a quarter mile up the track.
"To the creek then," Elrohir smirked with a roguish glint in his ancient yet boyish grey eyes.
Elladan could not help but mirror the playful smile pulled across his brother's face. Though at times the two would bicker and argue heatedly (as all siblings will do), the twin sons of Elrond were well known for their mischievous nature and their undying love of pranks and tom-foolery, and Elrohir was quick to forget his anger towards Elladan with the proposition of a race.
"I do hope you will not be terribly mad at me when this is over," the younger of the two said as he siddled his mount up even with Elladan's for a fair start, "Because father is going to keep you busy for hours with his responsibility lectures while I am enjoying the feast."
"I think not, dear brother," Elladan answered with a smile, "It will be you that will be enduring father's speeches. Thinsûl* and I do not plan on losing," he added with an affectionate pat on his silver-grey stallion's proud neck.
"Well, Curudal** and I do not plan on losing either," Elrohir retorted, eagerly returning his brother's boasts, "Curudal could outrun any horse this side of the Anduin."
"Then let us see if there is any truth to all that bravado," the older twin said as he leaned down over his horse's neck, preparing to race.
"Let's," Elrohir agreed with a smile, taking the same position as his brother. By now, the horses had sensed the growing excitement in the air from their riders and were pranced nervously in place, ready to spring forward the second their riders gave them the signal.
"On the count of three..." Elladan said. Both brothers gripped a handful of their horses' manes. The horses tossed their heads excitedly, pawing at the ground, ready to be off.
"One..."
"Two..."
"Three!"
Both horses shot forward like loosed arrows, their hooves flying beneath them. Clods of dirt flew up into the air as the elven bred steeds charged down the forested path leading towards Rivendell. Elladan and Elrohir's grey hoods flew back from their faces as the wind tore them back from the brothers' heads. Their cloaks snapped in the driving wind. The elves' braided, dark brown hair streamed out over their shoulders and whipped in the air as the rainy wind lashed their exposed faces. But the brothers payed little attention to the falling rain now as they vied each other for a lead on the narrow path with gentle guiding touches on the sides of their horses' necks. The forest sped by them in a collage of green and brown.
"You are losing, brother," Elrohir called over his shoulder merrily as he managed to cut Elladan off and finally gain the lead position. Over the roar of the wind in his ears, the younger of the two elves could hear his brother spit a profane curse at his back and urge his horse faster. Giving a sly smile, Elrohir gave Curudal an encouraging pat on the neck "Noro lim, Curudal," he whispered into the racing horse's ear.
Hearing its master's words of encouragement, the sorrel stallion put on an extra burst of speed and lowered its head into the wind. His limbs and head tucked together tightly on the moving animal's broad back, Elrohir squinted into the oncoming wind and scanned the path ahead.
In the near distance, his sharp elven eyes could discern the first signs of the rain-swollen creek between the moving trunks of the surrounding forest. Elrohir could hear his brother behind him trying to urge his horse faster. He could hear Thinsûl's hoofs pounding the ground behind him, riding Curudal's tail.
Unwilling to give his twin the time he needed to gain on him, the youngest son of Elrond again whispered urgent encouragements to his galloping mount. Curudal again put on a burst of speed and gained several more paces between himself and Elladan. But the older elf was not willing to admit defeat just yet, and urged his silver-grey stallion faster too, pulling up right up on Elrohir's heels.
The stream was coming closer. Its clear, rushing water could be seen gurgling over the smooth rocks lining its riverbed.
"Faster, Curudal," Elrohir urged, guiding the animal with a gentle touch on the side of its neck.
The horses were practically flying down the forest path towards the mountain stream. Rain lashed at the elven brothers' faces like the sting of a hundred tiny ice shards. Their horses pounded the soft ground beneath their flying hooves as they barreled down the trails at break-neck speeds.
Coming to a sharp bend in the path, Curudal's haunches suddenly skidded in the watery mud. The elf was almost thrown from the horse's back as the animal struggled to keep its footing. Elladan immediately seized the moment and surged ahead, keeping Thinsûl on the left most side of the path where the dirt trail had been more sheltered by the overhanging boughs of the tress and was less slippery and muddy. Pulling out of his tail-spin, Elrohir immediately kicked Curudal after his brother. The two were again neck and neck, coming up fast on the gurgling brook.
"You will not win!" Elrohir shouted over the driving wind whipping around them as he pushed his sorrel stallion faster, jockeying to regain his lead. Whether Elladan heard his brother's challenge or not, he did not return any boasts, and only urged Thinsul faster.
They were fifty, forty, now thirty feet away from the stream.
Leaning down low over Curudal's neck, Elrohir locked his eyes in dead-set determination on the approaching stream. The trees whirled past them as the two horses and riders sped down the sylvan trail. Thinsûl suddenly put on another burst of speed and edged ahead as the two entered the final stretch.
Eyeing his brother competitively, Elrohir gave one final tap of encouragement on his stallion's proud neck. Feeling his master's signal, Curudal sprang forward with unforseen speed, quickly overtaking Elladan and passing the sliver-coated horse and winning himself an unbeatable lead over the older son of Elrond in the final few yards.
But before Elrohir could reign his sprinting steed in and claim victory, a large brown mass suddenly darted out in front of the charging horse and rider.
Wickering in surprise, Curudal reared back on his hind legs, almost sending the mounted elf flying off its back. Elrohir somehow managed to grab a handful of tossing mane before he was jettisoned from off the stallion's back, and clung for dear life as the animal pranced and wheeled around madly in place.
"Elrohir! Are you alright?" the younger of the two elves heard his brother call over the frightened snorting and pawing of his startled horse from somewhere behind him.
"Yes... I think," Elrohir replied uncertainly as he tried to calm the agitated beast he rode. Gently stroking the frightened animal's sweat-lathered neck and whispering soft elven phrases, the elf slowly regained control. Though shaken and still nervously prancing in place, Curudal finally calmed enough for Elrohir to safely slide off his back without the risk of being unwittingly kicked or tramped on. Coming quickly up beside his roan stallion's head, Elrohir quieted the horse completely with a gentle, soothing hand between the animl's eyes in the center of its long and slender face.
"What happened?" Elladan exclaimed as he rode up beside his brother and dismounted in a fantastic show of elven agility. Running up to his twin, the Rivendell prince grabbed his brother's shoulder and wheeled the other elf around to face him. He fretfully wiped a hand across his younger brother's forehead, pushing back the strands of dark brown hair that had become undone from Elrohir's braids in the wind and plastered to his face in the rain. "Are you alright?" he again cried as he scanned Elrohir's face as if searching for any sign of injury. The elf was extremely upset and worried by his brother's near-accident.
"I believe so," Elrohir answered in a shaking voice. His stomach felt like a rock sitting in the pit of his gut from the sudden scare. He could feel his body shivering as the adrenaline surging through his blood slowly began to ebb away.
"What happened?"
"I...I don't know. Something ran out in front of me and startled Curudal." Glancing up the trail, the brothers scanned the remaining path to the banks of the narrow mountain stream. Breaking away from his brother, Elrohir slowly took a few steps towards the stream. Following after him, Elladan gave an uncertain glance back at the horses that stood beside each other, tiredly hanging their heads from their race.
Walking up the path to the edge of the running stream, Elrohir glanced down either bank, searching for any sign of the mysterious thing that had run out in front of him and almost gotten him killed. Finding nothing down the left side of creek, Elrohir turned to spot down the right.
There standing several yards down along the side of the bank stood a haggard looking brown mare, its head bent nearly to the ground in exhaustion. Twigs and leaves were knotted in its thick mane and tail which were ungroomed and tangled. The animal looked thin and hungry, but seemed too tired to eat any of the lush grasses growing along the side of the flowing brook. It barely even looked up as the twins drew closer.
"Hello there," Elladan murmured softly in way of a greeting as he came up beside the horse and placed a hand on the ragtag creature's neck. The mare did not shy away from the elves, but rather seemed comfortable in their presence and even raised her head several inches from the ground and whickered pitifully to them.
"Do you think it lost its rider somewhere and has been running stray in the woods?" Elrohir asked as he picked the trailing reigns from up off the ground and held them in his hand.
"I don't know," Elladan muttered under his breath as his ancient grey eyes strayed up to look at an empty saddle and pack sitting forlornly atop the mare's back. Examining the leather saddle and bridle closely, the older twin suddenly realized they were of elven make. Though elves rarely used bridle or tack themselves, they would often have them on hand should they need them for whatever reason. Running his eyes over the straggly creature, a flicker of recognition suddenly sparked in the elf's memory.
Elrohir also seemed to have made a connection. "Does this horse not look like Santhir to you, Elladan?" he asked in dawning realization. The dark chestnut mare before them bore a striking resemblance to one of the horses in their father's private stable back in Rivendell.
"I think it is Santhir," Elladan remarked, casting his twin a foreboding glance.
"But why would she be out here in the forest? Father would let very few people ride out on one of his own horses," Elrohir commented, sweeping his eyes over the ragged looking animal, "Where do you think her rider is?"
"I don't know," he answered, swiveling around to scan the surrounding forest, "We should scout the area. Santhir's rider may be nearby and in need of our help."
Nodding in understanding, Elrohir dropped the reigns back to the ground and gave the haggard mare a gentle pat on the muzzle to assure her they would return for her soon. Turning from the stream, the elves spread out in different directions along the bank and started back into the water-drenched forest. The rain had tapered away into a fine drizzle and misted the brothers' unhooded faces as they combed though the surrounding trees.
As he was scouting the land several hundred paces east of where they had found the stray horse, Elrohir suddenly heard his brother call out to him. Rushing in the direction of the voice, the elf came across his twin kneeling down in front of a small huddled figure laying at the base of a large elm tree. Coming closer and looking over his brother's shoulder, Elrohir saw that it was a person wrapped in a rain-drenched cloak. At the stranger's feet lay a discarded axe.
"Master Gimli?" Elrohir stammered in shock. Kneeling beside his brother, the elf pushed back the drawn up hood from the dwarf's face. "What happened?" he asked his brother.
"I don't know."
The dwarf did not answer the elf. He was conscious but looked distant and sickly. His bushy beard was caked with mud and slicked down with rain. His dark little eyes were swollen and red as though he had been weeping violently. He could not seem to focus on anything around him even as the brothers called to him desperately.
"Gimli? Gimli, can you hear me? What happened?" Elladan called, trying to pull the dwarf to sit up straight against the trunk of the tree. Working together, the brother finally managed to prop Gimli upright so that he was eye level with them. Elladan then shook the dazed looking dwarf's shoulders sharply, trying to rattle him awake.
Like awakening from out of some sort of trance, Gimli slowly turned his head and looked at the two elves. Blinking his beady little eyes into focus, the dwarf stared in momentary silence at the warrior-princes of Rivendell.
"What happened to you? Why are you out here alone in the woods?" Elladan questioned with growing concern for the mud-caked dwarf in his arms.
Gimli again just sat and looked at the twins as though in a silent stupor. But before Elladan or Elrohir could question Gimli any further, the dwarf's eyes suddenly teared up as though the elves' fair faces stirred in him some repressed anguish and sorrow. His bearded face contorted with grief and despair.
"What is the matter, Gimli?" the younger of the two cried, taken aback by the usually stoic dwarf's sudden display of unexpected emotions.
"I'm sorry..." Gimli finally croaked in a raspy voice as he hung his head down his chest. A hollow sob escaped his lips as his body began to shudder with building tears.
"What...?" Elrohir stuttered, struggling to understand what the dwarf was trying to say.
"I'm sorry... It's all my fault," he whispered, locking his eyes on the identical faces before him, "It's all my fault..."
"What is your fault? What happnened?" Elladan demanded urgently. Never before had he or his brother ever seen the Gimli reduced to such a pitiful state; laying alone in the mud, and weeping as though he had lost all will to go on with life. The sudden change in the demeanor of the proud and honorable dwarf was enough to scare both brothers into believing that something terrible must have happened back in Rivendell while they had been away.
"Legolas... He's gone. It's all my fault," Gimli choked. A visible grimace of pain flashed across his face at the mention of the blond archer. Bitter tears of anguish were now seeping from the corners of his eyes as he tried to cover his face with his hands. His shoulders shook with barely checked sobs.
"What happened to Legolas? Where is he? Did something happen in Rivendell?" Elladan demanded, becoming desperate to understand what was going on.
"He's gone!" the dwarf wailed, seized in a fit of building hysteria. "He's gone and it's all my fault!"
"What happened to him?!" Elrohir cried in frustrated impatience, forcefully shaking the dwarf's shoulders in a vain attempt to make him speak coherently.
"I'm sorry... It's all my fault. Legolas, I'm so sorry..." the dwarf rambled as he buried his face in hands and cried out piteously for the forgiveness of the Mirkwood prince.
Elrohir cast his brother a helpless look.
"We have to get back home immediately. Something's happened in Rivendell," Elladan said ominously, never taking his eyes off the weeping dwarf before him, "I think something very bad has happened to Legolas..."
********
Silence hung in the air like the weight of a thousand shattered hopes and dreams. Rain pattered against the window panes of Lord Elrond's study, filling the void of silence with its cold and emotionless taps. A dim greyness seemed to cling to the room, casting everything in a dull gloom.
Elrohir and Elladan sat beside each other on one of the several plush couches lining their father's study. Both seemed distant and almost in a state of shock. Elrohir was slumped forward in his seat, staring blankly down at the floorboards. Elladan, likewise, stared ahead as if trying to look through the walls and see a hundred miles into the distance. Both sat holding hands, as if trying to seek mutual comfort in each other's presence. A dark shadow seemed to hang over both elves' ancient grey eyes.
"When... when did all this happen?" Elladan finally managed to say, breaking the intense silence of the room.
"About a week ago," the twins' father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, said in a somber tone, "He passed away in the night about four days ago."
"I... I don't understand how this could have happened. Legolas was so strong...It just doesn't make sense..." Elladan murmured, shaking his head in shocked disbelief. Elrond did not fail to miss the crack in his son's voice.
"He was strong... But just not strong enough to hold the poison off long enough for us to help him," came an empty voice from the side of the room. Aragorn stood not far from his foster-brothers, trying hard to hold in his own anguished emotions the twins' return had managed to stir up in him again.
Arwen stood close by the ranger's side, silently trying to offer him comfort and support. The elven princess' grey eyes shifted between her mortal lover and her brothers, obviously torn by whether to stay with Aragorn or go to her brothers and offer her sympathy to them also. Elladan and Elrohir had been close friends with the youngest prince of Mirkwood, Legolas, and the pain of his death was evident in their eyes.
"Can we see him?" Elrohir finally spoke up, lifting his head to look up at his father pleadingly. Tears rimmed his sorrow-filled grey eyes. "Can I just see him one last time? I...I have to say goodbye to him."
"Yes. His body is laid out in the garden room in the north wing. You can see him later after you both have had some time to rest," Elrond said. The ancient elf-lord could feel his heart breaking in two at the sight of his sons' grief-ridden expressions. After having dealt with his foster-son, Aragorn, for the past several days, he had thought he would have been able to break the news to Elladan and Elrohir without feeling some sort of back tracking in the grieving process. It seemed his heart had still not fully healed just yet.
"We should have been here..." Elladan muttered, ruefully shaking his head. Stifling a sob, the elf ran the back of his hand across his face in a vain attempt to stop the tears that were already leaking down his cheeks. "We should have never left Rivendell. If we had been here–"
"Nothing would have changed," interrupted a deep and raspy voice. The older twin lifted his head heavily and looked towards the white garbed man that had spoken. Meeting the elf's gaze, the wizard Gandalf emerged from the grey shadows of the room and said, "Even if you had been here nothing would have changed. Legolas would have still fallen victim to the poisoned blade, and died before we could bring him a cure. Your presence here would have changed nothing. Do not burden yourself with what might have been, but was not. It will do you no good to question what might have happened had you made a different choice or chosen a different path. You will only drive yourself mad with endless possibilities and unanswerable questions. Do not try to blame yourself for what happened, for there was nothing more we could have done for Legolas even if you had been here."
"But... we might have at least been able to have seen him one last time and said goodbye," Elrohir choked as a racking sob shook his slender frame, "We could have at least been there to say goodbye..." Breaking down, the elf could no longer contain the grief or sorrow of Legolas' death. It was too much for him to bear. He had not expected to return home and find one of his closest friends dead.
A shallow, empty sob escaped Elrohir's lips as he hung his head and tried to cover his face with his hands. Elladan quickly wrapped his brother in a comforting embrace, and rocked the grieving elf in his arms. Burying his face in his brother's hair, Elladan let his own sorrow take him. Neither elf cared whether their father or friends saw their tears or heard their sobs as they abandoned both pride and pretense and mourned for their lost friend and comrade.
"We could have at least said goodbye..." Elrohir cried bitterly into his brother's shoulder as he balled his fists in helpless grief and anger.
"Perhaps," Gandalf conceded with a grim nod of his head, "But you may have served a better purpose by returning when you did. For without you, we may have never found our missing friend Gimli..." The wizard's thoughtful gaze shifted from the distraught twins to the quiet figure hunched in a large arm-chair in the far corner of the gloomy study.
The dwarf did not seem to have noticed he had entered the conversation. He sat like a statue of carved stone staring out the window, passively watching as the rain continued to relentlessly beat at the glass and trickle down the outside in tiny rivulets. Gimli's rain drenched cloak had been taken away, and a thick blanket draped over his damp form.
There was no doubt in Elrond's mind that Gimli had taken a grievous chill in the rain before being found by the twins and brought back to Rivendell. But the dwarf showed no visible signs of cold or shivers. It was as though he was so shattered by personal anguish and grief that he was no longer even aware of his mortal body.
"Gimli?" Elrond called softly in a gentle voice. His long, flowing cobalt-blue robes rustled quietly over the polished floorboards as he took a tentative step towards the silent figure. There was no response as Gimli continued to silently stare out through the rain-spattered window. "Gimli?" the elf-lord persisted in a firmer tone.
A small sign of life seemed to stir in the dwarf's dark brown eyes. He slowly turned his head from the study window and looked at the ageless elf standing before him with listless eyes.
The ancient healer held the dwarf's distant gaze for several long moments, trying to gauge to what depths of hopelessness and despair Gimli had fallen. The ancient healer could see by the vacant light in the dwarf's eyes that although he looked at him he didn't really see him. Written across Gimli's countenance was the naked pain and anguish of losing a friend and brother.
The elf-lord immediately felt sorry for the pitiful creature before him.
Stooping down eye level with his rain-sodden guest, Elrond asked in a low voice of grave seriousness, "Gimli, we have to know, where did you go? Why did you leave Rivendell?"
Gimli stared at Elrond silently, as one would look at the pages of a book when their mind had wandered elsewhere.
Elrond frowned, dreading what the dwarf's drawn-out silence could mean.
"You released Eronel from her cave in attempt to try and find a way to revive Legolas, didn't you?" he said in a hushed voice over the hollow tapping of the rain on the windows and the soft sobs of his sons on the other side of the room. It was less a question than a statement.
Gimli finally seemed able to focus his bleary eyes on the fair face of the elf standing in front him. A storm of unleashed motions flew across Gimli's face. His lower lips began to quiver beneath his mud-caked beard as fresh tears stung his eyes. "Yes..." he choked out barely above a whisper.
A murmur of dismay ran through the assembled group.
"By the Valar! Do not tell me you were stupid enough to believe Eronel could have brought Legolas back from the dead!" Gandalf burst in a fierce, booming voice. The white wizard stormed across the study straight towards Gimli, his staff matching the beat of every other footfall. Gandalf was well know for his quick and fiery temper that only the bravest of men dared invoke. Unfortunately though, one of the surest ways of evoking the Maia's wrath was by even the most innocent of slips in good judgement. "I had a feeling that was where you had gone, but why? Why did you think Eronel could bring Legolas back?" he demanded, coming to tower over Elrond's shoulder and stare down at the hunched figure in the armchair.
Gimli shook his head slowly in shame. Tears of despair trickled down his wrinkled face. "She said she could..." he forced out over the violent sobs quaking his voice, "She appeared to me whist you and the elf were fetching the water. She said that the enchanted water would not save Legolas – only she could. She said if I released her, she could save him... When we came back and Legolas was..." Gimli broke off with a choke, unable to finish the sentence, "I... I didn't know what else to do... She said she could bring him back."
"And you believed her?!" Gandalf roared in disbelief, "May Aulë strike the beards off all dwarfs as foolish as you! There was a reason Eronel was locked away in that cave! Do you know what kind of death and destruction she has committed or is capable of committing again?!"
Gimli visibly winced.
"Peace, Mithrandir," Elrond said softly with an outstretched hand to the raging wizard, "Anger will get us nowhere in this matter." Looking at Gimli again, the ancient elf-lord said in a softened tone of pity, "I assume then, Master Dwarf, that since Legolas has not awoken from his eternal sleep that Eronel did not fulfill her promise to you?"
"Nay," Gimli admitted with a rueful shake of his head.
He elf signed wearily. "Then this truly is a sorrowful day for all the free-people of Middle-Earth..." he said, turning away from Gimli to pace the study floor There was a clear note of disappointment in Elrond's deep and sonorous voice.
Gimli hung his head in shame. He might have been able to endure Gandalf's harsh words, but to hear such disappointment coming from Lord Elrond himself was almost too much for the anguished dwarf to bear. Though he would have never admitted it to anyone, he had come to greatly respect the ancient elf-lord of Rivendell.
Elrond had never failed to treat him as an honored friend and guest, or treat him any differently than one of his own people. He had once even given Gimli's own father sanctuary in the Last Homely House when Glóin and a travel-worn company of dwarves came traveling through the Misty Mountains with Frodo's uncle Bilbo and the grey wizard Gandalf on a long and dangerous quest almost sixty years before. Truth be told, because of that incident, Elrond was the only elf Gimli knew of that his father seemed to hold any esteem for...
But to now see Elrond look at him so disappointedly with his sorrowful grey eyes and yet not rebuke him for his foolish actions, it felt almost worse than having his pride and honor publically denounced by the white wizard.
"I'm sorry..." the dwarf whispered remorsefully, unable to bear the elf's sorrowful gaze on him. "I truly believed Eronel could bring Legolas back..."
"Eronel is one full of tricks and lies, Master Dwarf," Elrond sighed regretfully, "She knew to what measures you would go to bring Legolas back..." An empty silence followed, as if Elrond's words had awakened in all of them the knowledge of the intense void Legolas had left them to fill.
"Where is Eronel now?" Aragorn demanded in a low, gravelly voice from one of the dark shadows of room, near the couch where his two foster-brothers were still grieving in each others arms with muffled sobs. Arwen looked up worriedly at sound of the harsh note permeating Aragorn's voice from where she sat on the edge of the couch beside Elrohir, gently stroking his back and trying to sooth his distressed cries away.
Everyone in the room looked at Gimli expectantly, sensing the rising tension in the room.
The dwarf shifted uncomfortably under his friends' gaze and turned his reddened eyes to the floor. "I know not..." he whispered in a distant voice.
"What do you mean you do not know?" the ranger spat. Contempt smoldered in his steel-grey eyes as he stared at the dwarf. His rugged features were stormy and dark. "What did you do, just walk away when she said she wouldn't revive Legolas? Just left to let that witch run free?" he demanded with unmistakable animosity in his voice.
The room grew silent as Aragorn rounded the couch holding his foster-siblings and slowly made his way in Gimli's direction. Elladan and Elrohir's murmured sobs tapered off as they quieted to watch their mortal brother confront Gimli.
"She disappeared before I could stop her," Gimli defended himself in a low voice, feeling immediately taken aback and put on guard by the unnatural tone of hostility in Aragorn's voice. He could feel the tension in the room grow a notch higher with every step the man took closer to him. "I tried, Aragorn..."
"Tried? Tried like you did to bring back a cure for Legolas? Tried like you did to hurry back and save his life? Was that how hard you tried to stop Eronel?" Aragorn cried incredulously, his voice cracking in his throat. The man's fists shook at his sides as he stared at the dwarf. Helpless rage and grief clouded his mind. He had had to watch one of his best friends slowly slip away before his very eyes, but what had been worse was that there had been nothing he could do to help ease Legolas' suffering even in his last few agonizing moments of life. With Gimli's return, all Aragorn could think of was the torture and pain the elf had endured while hopelessly waiting for Gimli's return. Seized by a violent surge of misdirected anger, Aragorn exploded at the dwarf, unable to see Gimli as anything more than a target with which to vent his pain and frustration on.
"Do not patronize me, Aragorn! I tried everything I could to bring Legolas back a cure!" Gimli shouted sharply as he jumped out of his chair and met the ranger half way across the study floor, his dark little eyes ablaze. Man and dwarf stood barely a foot apart, hatefully staring into each other's faces. "I would have given my life to save Legolas! Don't you ever accuse me of trying to intentionally harm that elf!"
"Why did you have to give him that dagger?!" the man shouted shrilly in mounting hysterics. Angry tears were now coursing down his tanned and beard-stubbled face. "It's your fault he died! Why did you have to give him that dagger?! Why?! If it wasn't for you, he would still be alive!" Aragorn's whole body was now shaking as he glared at the mud-caked dwarf before him.
Gimli was momentarily stunned by Aragorn's words as though the man had physically dealt him a blow across the face. Gimli felt his heart stung deep by Aragorn's accusations. Anger and reproach for the ranger's condemnations stirred in the dwarf a hidden store of festering rage. "And what about you, Aragorn?! Where were you when Legolas died?!" Gimli blurted out, screaming at the top of his lungs up into the ranger's face.
The man staggered back, not expecting this sudden shift of incrimination onto himself from the dwarf.
"Where were you, Aragorn?! I'll tell you where you were, you abandoned Legolas! You left him alone with no one there to watch over him! It's because of you Legolas is dead! If you hadn't left him, he might have still been alive!"
"What... what are you talking about?" Aragorn stammered, his rage and misdirected anger instantly replaced by shock and horror.
"You left him! You abandoned Legolas!" Gimli shrieked without any thought to what painful truths he might be revealing, "Legolas did not die from poison! Eronel killed him!" A collective gasp of shock went up from the others standing in the shadowy study. "She told me how she snuck into Legolas' room and killed him right after you left! She didn't want him alive when we returned with the water. She wanted him dead! If you hadn't left him, Aragorn, Legolas might still be alive!"
For a moment, so blinded by grief and anger, Gimli felt almost proud of himself by the shattered expression that flew onto Aragorn's face. He could not help but relish in some small way the look of horror and disbelief in the man's eyes as he slowly backed away from the dwarf with his mouth dropped open.
Not about to relinquish his attack, the dwarf pressed mercilessly, "You should have been there to protect him, Aragorn! Legolas trusted you and you abandoned him! He even warned you! He told you what Eronel was trying to do! But you wouldn't listen! You didn't believe him and left him there alone to be killed!"
Aragorn stumbled backwards, staring dumbstruck at Gimli in a mixture of revulsion and mute horror. "By the Valar... No. I... I didn't mean to leave Legolas like that. I was trying to find him help. I..I thought he was hallucinating from the poison. I...I didn't know..." The man looked sick with renewed anguish.
"Stop it! That is enough!" Elrond finally cried, sweeping in between the estranged friends and forcing them apart. Gandalf was quickly there by his side, pushing Gimli back towards the empty armchair. Drained of his wrath, Gimli put up no resistance and allowed himself to be pushed back into his seat.
Aragorn immediately shrunk back from his foster-father and Gimli, staring at the dwarf in aghast horror. "Oh, Elbereth, no. It was my fault..."
"Aragorn, no. Listen to me," the half-elf said, demanding the attention of his mortal child with his most authoritive tone, "It wasn't your fault. It was nobody's fault." Walking towards him, Elrond tried to place a hand on his son's shoulder.
Aragorn recoiled away from Elrond's touch. "Did you not hear him, father?!" he shrieked. Babbling in half-hitched sobs, Aragorn wailed, "Don't you see?! It was my fault! It was all my fault! If I hadn't left him, Legolas would still be alive!"
Elrond could see his son's already fragile mind threatening to crumble before his very eyes.
"Estel, don't do this to yourself," Elrond pleaded, "It was not your fault. Nor was it Gimli's. No one could have foreseen anything that could have prevented this. We all wish there was more we could have done for Legolas, but you cannot blame yourself for his death."
Aragorn's face was a mirror for the internal struggle of his warring emotions. Naked pain and anguish swam in his eyes. Paternal instincts kicking in, Elrond was unable to go on watching his child suffer any longer. Sweeping forward, the elf gathered the guilt-stricken man in his arms and let his son's pitiful cries muffle into his shoulder.
A heavy stillness came over the room as if the brief conflict between Aragorn and Gimli had sucked it dry of all other feelings except cold, lonely emptiness. Rain tapped at the windows in dull, hollow rounds.
In that very moment of bleak despair, more than ever, the light and laughter of Legolas Greenleaf was sorely missed and needed.
Finally regaining some sense of control, Aragorn extricated himself from his foster-father's arms. Hanging his head shamefully, the man backed away silently and moved off to a distant corner of the study to be alone with his sorrow and inner demons of guilt.
Elrond frowned, following his son with his ancient eyes as Aragorn melded away into the grey shadows of the room like a ghost. He could see that a long and lonely journey lay ahead of Aragorn. It would be a long time until Aragorn would was finally be able to come to grips with his pain and guilt. Perhaps someday, the man would be able to move on and not dwell on the darkness of life's evanescence. If such a day ever came, then perhaps Aragorn would one day be able to fondly remember Legolas as the strong and loyal warrior and friend he had been before his tragic death, and honor his friend's memory without being haunted by such guilt and sorrow.
Turning his eyes onto his own biological children, Elrond could see similar paths ahead of each of them (even if, perhaps, they were not as bleak as Aragorn's). Elrond could not help but hope that perhaps for Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen, they would somehow find condolence for their grief over the span of their immortal lives. Maybe with the long passage of time, the painful memories of Legolas' death would someday dim and fade until it became nothing more than a fleeting moment of regret and nothing more. But Elrond somehow doubted that even if they were given an eternity and a half, the pain would ever fully leave them...
Sighing wearily, the elf-lord turned and looked to where Gimli sat in his chair with Gandalf close by his side, guarding over him. The dwarf's head was bowed and hands hung limply in his lap as he stared with rapt transfixion at the floor. It seemed as if he was again lost in a trance of silent grief and pain. Meeting the elf's worried gaze, the white wizard returned an unreadable expression.
Casting Gimli a commiserating look, Gandalf slowly shook his head and tugged at his long white beard. "Well now, that didn't go over so well, did it?" he said in grim sarcasm, all previous ire gone from his deep and raspy voice. Having witnessed the heart-wretching confrontation between Aragorn and Gimli, nothing but pity was left in the wizard's heart for the dwarf's hopeless flight of desperation to Eronel's cave.
"No. It would seem not," Elrond returned dryly, "What do you suggest we do now, Mithrandir?"
Gandalf became very serious. "With Gimli's return, we must immediately gather the other dwarves housed here in Rivendell and relocate them someplace deep in the mountains where Thranduil cannot find them. Legolas' father is blindly seeking revenge. Any dwarf he finds in the realm of Imladris will most assuredly be killed without question or second thought. We must hide Gimli and his people away until Thranduil can be reasoned with, or it will be a massacre..."
"That will be easier said than done when Thranduil is in question," Elrond said, " I have had many dealings with him over the centuries, and I have found him to be not the most reasonable of elves, Mithrandir. He can be obnoxiously stubborn when he sets his mind to something. Even if I manage to turn him away from the borders of Imladris, there is no jurisdiction for me to stop Thranduil from making an attack against the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain."
"I know how stubborn Thranduil can be, Lord Elrond. I have had my own dealings with him over the years, and know his nature all too well... I suspect Legolas may have inherited some of Thranduil's obstinacy himself..." Gandalf added quietly to himself almost as an afterthought. A distinct note of sorrow tainted the white wizard's wistful nostalgia of the light-hearted elven warrior he had come to know years before the Fellowship was ever formed or the War of the Ring erupted.
Elrond nodded solemnly. Turning to the strangely quiet dwarf, he said, "Gimli, do you hear all of this? Thranduil is marching towards Rivendell as we speak with a large military escort. He is ready to wage an attack on all Dwarves. You and your people cannot stay here any longer, it is no longer safe. I will arrange for a small escort of warriors to take you and your company to one of the western mountain villages. I will have orders sent ahead to the ruling commander there to see that you are well taken care of and hidden until this misunderstanding is resolved. We must move quickly. Thranduil is less than a day away from Rivendell."
"I am not going to hide," sounded a distant but resolute voice from somewhere deep inside Gimli's throat.
"What?" Elrond questioned, confused.
"I said I will not hide from Thranduil," Gimli repeated, lifting woeful eyes up to look at the elf-lord and wizard towering over him where he sat, "It is my fault Legolas is dead. It is because of me Thranduil lost his son. I will not run and hide from him. I will face him and accept the punishment for Legolas' death..."
"You are acting as though you have committed murder!" Gandalf exclaimed in disbelief, trying to reign in the frustration from his voice. His great white staff thumped the ground agitatedly.
Trying to keep his calm, Elrond tried to reason persuasively, "Master Dwarf, Thranduil will kill you if you stay here. For your safety and the safety of those with you, you must flee Rivendell and seek refuge in the mountains where he cannot find you."
"I am staying," Gimli said firmly with a resolute shake of his head.
But before Elrond or Gandalf could say anything else in attempt to dissuade the dwarf from his suicidal decision to stay and await most certain death, a frantic, rapping knock sounded from the study door.
Without waiting for any acquiescence from within, the door immediately swung inwards and a very flustered looking Glorfindel entered. Only Elrond's march-warden would have taken such liberties as intruding on the Lord of Imladris' study without permission and interrupting the elf-lord's private meeting.
Spotting Elrond in the far corner of the grey room, the golden-haired elf hurried forward. "My Lord," he cried as he quickly hastened towards the elf and wizard. An aura of subdued panic surrounded the usually calm and collected elven warrior.
The ancient elf-lord was immediately troubled by Glorfindel's unnatural behavior. Only in the gravest of situations had he ever seen his commander in such an agitated state of distress. Naked apprehension and dread shined in the elf's piercing grey eyes.
"What is wrong, Glorfindel?" Elrond questioned with a strange foreboding tingle in the pit of his stomach.
"I apologize for my intrusion, Lord Elrond, but I bear grave tidings," the elf answered breathlessly as he made a hasty bow to the elf-lord.
"What is it? What has happened?" Gandalf demanded, immediately picking up on the strained note of urgency in the elf's voice.
"It is Lord Toreingal," he answered gravely, "He has just left the palace."
Elrond and Gandalf exchanged troubled but uncertain looks.
"Where has he gone?" Elrond prompted in his calm voice of authority.
Glorfindel shifted nervously on his feet. "He has gone to join Lord Thranduil's army..."
"What do you mean?" Gandalf ordered, demanding immediate answers by the deep tone accenting his voice.
"Scouts have just reported that King Thranduil has been spotted half a day's march from Rivendell's border. He is pressing though the mountains despite the rain and is making straight for eastern border of the city. He will be here by early tomorrow morning. It is a confirmed report that he is escorted by over a hundred and fifty armed and mounted soldiers."
Elrond felt his heart freeze cold in his chest. Thranduil was already upon them. And Gimli and the other dwarves were still within the walls of Rivendell. He had thought they would have had at least one more day to spirit the dwarves away from Thranduil's grasp.
"But why did Toreingal leave?" Elrond then questioned, becoming increasingly concerned by his commander's reports of the Mirkwood king.
"He left immediately after a message was delivered to the gate warden on the eastern side of Rivendell by one of the king's heralds... " Glorfindel hesitated and stared Elrond directly in the eyes. The ominous beating of rain on the window pane filled the empty void of tense silence before the elf finally said in a grave voice, "King Thranduil has just made a formal declaration of war against the elven realm of Imladris. He charges Lord Elrond of Rivendell with the crimes of harboring and protecting the known murderer of Legolas Greenleaf, member of the royal family of Mirkwood..."
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TBC....
Coming soon....
Chapter 11: Encounter With the Devil
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Fancy-schmancy index of Elven words and phrases
*Thinsûl: meaning 'grey wind'; from the Sindarian words 'thin(d)' (grey) + 'sûl' (wind); Elladan's horse's name.
** Curudal: meaning 'skilled feet'; from 'curu' (skill) + 'tal/dal' (foot); Elrohir's horse's name.
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Author's Notes:
Well, summer's here and school is finally out. That can only mean one thing: summer fun under the sun! With diploma in hand and vacations ahead, this girl here is looking forward to limitless time to read, write, and barbeque herself in the sun!
Sorry about the delayed update, but I've been kind of side tracked lately. Besides finals, graduation, lacrosse play-offs, and a heap-load of other nuisances, I started another Lord of the Rings story under a different pen name. It started out as merely an idea that wouldn't leave me alone until one sleepless night I finally wrote it out. Its kind of gotten me to write in a slightly different vein of Legolas-torture.
It is a bit darker and mysterious than this piece here and a little lesser known than "Writings." If you are interested in reading what else my dark and twisted mind is capable of, my other pen name is "attack wing" The new name pays homage to my playing position on the lacrosse field. (FYI. Lacrosse is also where my current name hails from. In the lacrosse world, lacrosse is usually shortened to LAX). The title is "They Came Upon A Midnight Clear" You'll probably like the opening chapter which is set in the infamous Grey Havens.
Hope to see you there! Don't forget to tell me how I'm doing with this story!
Signing out
-LAXgirl