Part 2
As soon as Gimli cleared the doors to the hall, he caught sight of Lenwe and Frer standing by Arod, packs at the ready, Lenwe's own mount mouthing the other's mane. He braced himself for the coming confrontation, knowing full well how Lenwe was going to react, for while the elves were fair of face, their rages could be black and horrible… especially those of the former Mirkwood. The fact that the other elf was essentially Legolas' body guard more than aid did not help stabilize matters one bit.
As soon as he was in range, Lenwe stepped forward, looking past him, a puzzled frown furrowing his pale brow.
"Where is the prince?" he demanded.
"Listen to me, Lenwe, and do not overreact," Gimli tried to placate gruffly. "There has been a claim against Legolas. They say he enchanted a girl to his bed against her will, and they refuse to release him until he has been judged by a tribunal."
The elf's mouth dropped open as he stared at the dwarf in complete and utter astonishment. The hinges of his jaw moved but no sounds emerged. Both Frer and Gimli stepped back and watched him apprehensively, not sure as to what would come next. They did not have to wait long.
"That vile little minx!" Lenwe screeched. "She has done this! I shall rend her head from her shoulders!" he affirmed, taking a step toward the hall. "Is she within?" he whirled on Gimli, eyes flint hard and dark. "Is she?"
"Yes, but Lenwe, listen to me…" Gimli ceased all attempts to get through to the other as he realized all words after "yes" fell on deaf ears. Cursing, he launched himself at the elf's knees, bringing him to the dusty ground as he moved to dash into the hall, wicked-looking dagger materializing in his clenched fist out of thin air. "Frer, help me, you great oaf!" the dwarf yelled as he attempted to wrestle the knife from the struggling elf.
"Take your grubby hands off me, you miscreants!" Lenwe spat as Frer joined the fray, practically sitting on the squirming body. "These false claims can not go unanswered; such base accusations shall not be tolerated upon one of the Eldar! I will kill them, for in death their putrid mouths cannot utter such lies! I shall roast their tongues and feed them to warg pups. I shall…"
"Control yourself!" Gimli roared, smacking the crown of his forehead against that of the enraged elf in the hopes of knocking some sense into him, or stunning him in the least.
The blow did its job, and Lenwe's grip on the dagger slackened enough to allow Frer to pry it from his grip. With his weapon gone and his senses still addled, Lenwe looked up at the two dwarves blearily, and Gimli swore the tears threatening to spill from his eyes were not those of pain.
"What shall I do? I cannot allow them to do this to Prince Legolas!"
"WE will not," Gimli avowed, judging the elf sufficiently under control to allow him his feet again. "We will attempt to straighten matters out on our own, and if all else fails, we will ride back to Faramir and enlist his aid."
"But what of the prince until such a time?" Lenwe asked as he rolled to his feet.
Gimli hesitated only a moment. "They are locking him in the cellar of the hall."
The elf tensed but did not make to move towards the structure again. "How typical of the race of men to attempt to hide their own dishonor at the expense of another," he said bitterly.
At the moment Gimli agreed wholeheartedly, but instead said, "Not all men are as such; besides, Legolas himself trusts all will turn out well in the end. 'Tis why he let them take him away."
Lenwe smiled sadly down at him. "He has a trusting spirit, much too trusting for his own good I think."
They stood in silence for a moment, contemplating what to do, before Frer spoke. "Perhaps we may extricate the prince and escape the village?" he offered.
Lenwe looked hopeful at this suggestion, but Gimli shook his head. "Nay, it is too dangerous, not only for us but for the townspeople. Despite what you may think," and he turned to Lenwe, "the four of us would not be able to flee a mob of angry villagers so easily, especially without injuring anyone. I doubt very much Faramir or Aragorn would be pleased if, in the end, we killed a handful of their subjects in an escape attempt."
"Then what do you suggest?" Frer asked.
Gimli sighed, and turned to look down the road. "We will return to the hostel and attempt to find anyone who was there the night the girl approached Legolas. Perhaps they can be persuaded to support our version of events."
"I had a sure form of persuasion," Lenwe sniffed, "but you two snatched it from my grasp."
Despite themselves the two dwarves burst into a fit of laughter; if they could not garner any support by the end of the day, they would give Lenwe back his knife.
Gimli snarled as he almost tripped over his own feet for the third time, catching himself before he took a tumble down the stairs. It was dark, oppressively so, and the faint light from the torch held by his escort did little to light the inky expanse before them.
"How deep is this cellar?" he grumbled. "You'd think you were mining mithril down here!"
"Quiet, dwarf," his attendant snapped, "or we will turn around without you seeing the villain."
Gimli's hackles rose. "He is no villain; 'tis your sister who deserves to be locked in the dark! Falsely accusing unsuspecting travelers to obscure her own shame!"
This time when he stumbled, it was from a push, not a slip of the foot. "Silence," the man hissed. There was a note of desperation in the voice which gave the dwarf pause. He halted his trek down the stairs and turned towards the man holding the torch aloft.
"You know," he stated, stunned. "You know 'twas not Legolas who bedded your sister! Yet you say nothing!" The accusation was clear in his voice.
The man's lips thinned. "I will not have our family's honor sullied by my sister's idiocy."
"You would see an innocent man punished for a crime he did not commit?" Gimli demanded.
"He is no man."
"And what of the true culprit? Your sister's lover?"
"He will say nothing either, we've made sure of it." He made a motion for the dwarf to turn back around. "Now hurry or you will not get to see your friend at all."
Disheartened at this new information, Gimli did as he was bid and continued down the stairs until they widened out into the hall's cellar.
The large room was cold and damp, pitch black and smelled of mold. Gimli could just make out racks of wine, which lined several of the walls, as well as stacks of barrels and crates. From across the room a dim white glow radiated, the light soft around the edges. Drawn instantly to the light, the dwarf approached what seemed to be two caged walls baring off a corner of the room. The closer he got, the more detail he picked up. There sitting on the damp stone floor was his friend, iron collar heavy about his neck, a short length of chain securing it to a ring in the wall. The icy cold light shone from his skin like a pale moon in a dark sky, his hunched form straightening as Gimli approached the bars.
"Gimli," he greeted, eyes veiled.
"This place is more dungeon than wine cellar," the dwarf remarked with heat, loud enough for the man still standing by the staircase at the other end of the room to hear clearly.
"The irony is not lost upon me," the elf remarked. "If I ever have the chance to meet your father again, we can commiserate."
It was not at all funny, but Gimli let out a snort of laughter none the less.
"And why do you shine so?" he asked.
The elf's slim yet broad shoulders shrugged. "In the absence of light, I must make my own, else I go mad."
"Did they give a reason for that despicable collar, as if they need one?" Gimli asked.
"They fear I shall use some trick to escape if not properly bound - some legend about iron binding an elf's power. If I had known, I could have told them rope would have worked just as well."
The dwarf scowled but was not sure his friend could see it in the faint light he produced. "They would not allow Lenwe to see you for similar reasons, claiming they did not want the two of you weaving some magic charm to escape. It is as if they thought you could turn to smoke or red and black beetles and slip by their watchful eyes."
It was Legolas' turn to scowl, an expression Gimli felt did not sit upon his face well. "If I had such magics as they claim, do they think I would allow them to keep me here in the dark?" he snarled, shifting restlessly, chain clinking.
"I know not their minds, for they are strange even for men."
"By your words I surmise you made little progress," the elf sighed heavily.
"If speaking of little, you mean none, than yes, it is so."
"You will have to go to Faramir then?" Legolas stated apprehensively though he knew the answer.
"It looks that way."
"How long?"
Gimli stood thoughtful for a moment, staring at his friend critically as if he were assessing the health of a wilting head of cabbage. "Considering this day is at its wane and my less than stellar ability to control Arod without you, two days at least."
"You could always stay here and send Lenwe," Legolas suggested hopefully.
Gimli looked over his shoulder at the man standing by the stairs and leaned in closer to the bars. "I fear it is no longer safe for Lenwe, or even Frer and myself, to stay in this village," he whispered. "We shall leave at dawn and make all haste to find help. Hopefully Faramir has some authority over these people." He paused and reached a steady hand through the bars, Legolas' own slender one stretching out to meet it. The tips of their fingers were a breath apart but could not span the distance. "Will you be able to make two days?" Gimli asked.
Dropping his hand, Legolas took a fortifying breath. "I will have to, for I see no other choice before me."
"Two days," Gimli assured as he straitened and made to leave.
"Two days," Legolas repeated as if sealing a promise.
By the time Gimli had returned to the hostel, the last orange rays of the sun were dipping below the horizon. He hurried his steps as he spied Frer standing outside wringing his hands and pacing.
"What's going on?" Gimli asked as he lopped up to the other dwarf.
Relief lit the other's eyes as he turned his attention to Gimli. "He's left, my lord!" he exclaimed.
"Who?"
"That elf! After we failed to find anyone who would help us and you went off to visit the prince, Lenwe went and got his horse, preparing to leave. I tried to stop him, I truly did, but they're stronger and faster than they look, those elves!" he explained.
"Did he say where he was going?" Gimli demanded exasperated. Damn stubborn mule; he hoped he wasn't going off to loosen some tongues… In Lenwe's current state of mind, it might turn out a little more literal than was helpful.
At this Frer looked stricken. "He said he was returning to the colony to gather reinforcement!"
Gimli shook his head in denial. No, no, no! How could the situation go sour so very fast! Lenwe would gather Legolas' warriors, there was no doubt, but he might very well send for Eryn Lasgalen's as well, and the last thing they needed was Thranduil Oropherion coming down upon the men of Ithilien like a great hungry hawk. They'd level the village and most likely plunge Faramir, and with him Aragorn, into a head-on collision with the remaining woodland elves of Middle Earth. Without bothering to say a word to Frer, he spun around and sprinted for the stables, calling for his companion to gather his belongings. They would have to leave tonight and with all haste. It was now a race between who would arrive first, Gimli with Faramir in tow or Lenwe and his kin… or would it be the fierce king of the once dark wood? Gimli shuddered. Oh, Legolas, perhaps it is better you are secreted below ground, for the world above has suddenly gone mad.
