Note: We're nearing the end of this tale folks, two more chapters to go after this one. Again thanks to the reviewers, they are as always appreciated and enjoyed.

Part 11

Gimli was the standing stone amongst the maelstrom; noise and movement exploding around him in a veritable display of racial stupidity and futility. The men across the square shouted and glowered and looked outraged, ready to commit murder themselves. The elves facing them were equally outraged, with a good dose of haughty indignation and wicked weaponry for good measure. The justice standing amongst the elves looked like a caged rabbit, itching to bolt
across the way and join his brethren, if only he had the courage. Thranduil stood by, unusually quiet, observing the entire scene with simmering anger, powerful hands curled, ready to explode all over them. Looking on the bright side, such a cataclysm would leave nothing but a crater behind, solving all their problems in one fell swoop. Faramir looked pained and slightly nauseated and if one more worry was to settle upon his shoulders Gimli was sure there would be an equally impressive, if much more disgusting, explosion.

But it was Legolas literally trembling beside him which caught and held his attention. The normally tensile and lively body seemed frail and withering, as if all life and love and every good emotion was draining out of him to feed the chaos around him. Gimli could see the thoughts behind those clouding blue eyes, see his mind stumbling over the events unfolding before him. Men with accusations on their tongues and blame in their hearts were amassing before him, an unfortunately familiar scenario and one which he knew first hand could escalate out of control until lives were almost in ruins.

Before Gimli could ask after him the elf looked down on him blankly.

"We should never have come here. We should never have come back."

And with that he turned on his heels, strode back into the hall of justice and closed the heavy doors behind him, the sound of the large brace sliding into place to bar the doors from within following soon after.

Gimli stood and stared after him dumbfounded.

Whipping his head about he realized no one else noticed Legolas' frazzled reaction, nor his absolute departure from the scene. Completely incredulous he thundered his way over to the still seething Thranduil, elbowing his way past Lenwe and Faramir, and promptly stomped on the elven king's foot.

Thranduil hopped back with a snarl of pain, immediately returning the favor by cuffing Gimli on the side of the head with his closed fist. The dwarf rocked back but was not even sure Thranduil realized who had stepped on his toes, his reaction was that quick.

Refraining from striking the elf back, thus avoiding an all out brawl, Gimli glowered up at Legolas' father as the king stared down at him in kind; the look on his face plainly conveyed his disbelief at Gimli's actions. Lenwe and the other elves stood by mute and motionless as well, equally stunned by such an action.

"How dare you, you little…" Thranduil finally managed to sputter before Gimli cut him off.

"Shut your mouth for once in your immortal life and listen to me," Gimli hissed. "While you have been standing here fantasizing about how to squash this town, and all its inhabitants, under your ineffectual little shoes Legolas has barred himself in the hall, locking us all and the madness around him out!"

Confusion flitted across Thranduil's proud brow for a moment as he looked about his surroundings, searching for a golden head. None were to be found.

From the growing crowd of men someone stepped forward a large stick brandished in his hand, foulness spewing from his mouth. Promptly halting any further actions one of the elves gathered before the hall let loose an arrow which found its mark in the man's thigh. He howled and dropped to the muddy ground, a few people surging forward to drag him back. In seconds more rocks and sticks were sought. Death inched that much closer.

"We have to stop this now," Gimli told Thranduil. "We have to get this under control and resolve it before the son you knew decides to flee completely, leaving a stranger behind."

For a breath seizing moment Gimli did not think Thranduil would to listen, but after a beat the king of Eryn Lasgalen gave a curt nod of his head before striding down the steps and past the throng of elves, Gimli close on his heels.

Just as they were breaking out into the chasm between the two parties the men rushed forward, ready to pit themselves against the assembled elves before the troops surrounding the village could be called in and tip the balance in their favor.

Caught mid way between the two Gimli was sure they were about to die; trampled or riddled with arrows in the crossfire as the wood elves mowed down their adversaries. It was with speechless, but thankful, astonishment, therefore, that when the first twang of an arrow being released was heard no man fell dead to the earth and no arrow impacted upon his flesh. Instead he stood and stared in shocked amazement, the opposing mobs abruptly still and silent as well. There Thranduil stood, up to his ankles in the mud of the square, green fletched arrow tightly held in one clenched fist held out to the side of his body. A deliberate flick of his thumb and the arrow snapped in two, the pieces dropping to the ground.

In the ensuing stillness he carefully and slowly unbuckled his sword and dipped down to set it upon the ground at his feet, never taking his eyes off the crowd of men before him.

"Lower you weapons," he commanded, and Gimli was not certain whether he spoke to his people behind him or the men in front of him. Whatever the case both complied with equal alacrity and caution.

"I am King Thranduil Oropherion of Eryn Lasgalen," he addressed them all. "Despite my reasons for coming here I do not wish to see anyone injured or killed unnecessarily. I insist everyone in this square calm down and think rationally, that we might resolve this new…development before matters deteriorate as they have in the past."

"Do not speak to us about rationality you..." a man shouted from the crowd but was stopped prematurely by Thranduil's booming voice.

"I am speaking! If you do not wish for me to take this dwarf and shove him down your gullet I suggest you keep quiet."

There were no other objections.

"I will stake my life on the fact that no warrior under my command would have murder one of your citizens in cold blood," he continued. "You shall bring the victim forward and we shall discover the truth of the matter. Now."

Tentatively the man carrying the body stepped forward, lying the corpse down onto the ground once he advanced as close to Thranduil as he dared.

The elven king looked down upon the body, paying close attention to the arrow protruding from the man's chest, before turning and beckoning Faramir, the magistrate and the town's justice to join them. As the three men stepped up to the body to examine it Thranduil turned to the justice.

"Who is this man?" he asked.

"That is Faden, our miller's assistant. His family died of a fever a few years ago," the justice replied.

Looking to the crowd Thrnaduil spoke, "Is the miller amongst you?" When there was no reply he continued. "Have someone go fetch him then, so we might ask him some questions."

Not long after a small boy was dispatched from the crowd and sent off down the street.

"Where did you find the body?" the magistrate asked as he squatted down to get a better look at the arrow wound.

The man who had carried Faden to the square replied. "I came across him lying beside one of the public wells, a bucket turned over beside him. I assumed he was out collecting some water when one of them," he jerked his head towards the elves, "shot him down."

"Is it not strange that he would be out to collect water from the well when it was raining so hard? Everyone's rain barrels were overflowing," the magistrate mused.

"What difference does it make?" the justice demanded. "The arrow which killed him is clearly of elvish make."

"True," the magistrate replied as he stood. "But it is easy enough to buy elven arrows, especially with the Prince Legolas' colony so close by. Besides, we have but to look right here and now to find more."

They all turned to regard the post still standing in the square, at least a dozen arrows, some fletched with yellow, other's with green, bristling from it.

"There is also the question as to why an elf would murder this man," Gimli piped up.

"It matters not at all for an elf did not murder this man," Thranduil stated firmly.

"You have said so already," the justice sneered.

"I know it for a fact, now."

"Oh?" Faramir noised curiously.

Thranduil pointed to the arrow. "Look at the angle from which the arrow protrudes, it is much too sharp for it to have been shot from a standing position, and if the archer had been kneeling it would be angled downward not upward as it is now."

"Perhaps the archer was shooting from a rooftop?" the justice suggested.

"Perhaps, but why?" the magistrate asked.

"It was not shot by an archer at all," Thranduil continued. "The penetration is not deep enough. The force from an elven bow, even the lighter versions used by my people, would have penetrated far more deeply that this one."

The magistrate nodded. "Yes, I agree. Everything you have pointed out suggests that the arrow was used to stab this man in the chest, and if the angle is any indication the assailant was most likely quite a bit taller."

"This does not exclude an elf," the justice reasoned.

"It very nearly does," Faramir rejoined. "Why would an elf murder a man he does not know, for no plausible reason, using his arrow to stab when he had a perfectly good bow on hand, and then leave the most obvious evidence pointing toward an elven perpetrator behind?"

"It is equally improbably that a member of this community would kill Faden as well," the justice replied. "Again there is no motive."

As the assemblage mulled over current developments, a small group of newcomers emerged onto the square, the messenger boy leading the way.

"What is this about my apprentice being killed?" a man demanded as he walked towards Thranduil and the others.

Gimli almost swallowed his tongue as the identity of the town miller was revealed. There standing in the square was the father of the girl who accused Legolas, his two hulking sons and deceitful daughter following behind.

The girl took one look at the body lying dead in the mud before she screamed. Rushing to the fallen Faden's side she dropped to her knees to cradle the body close, tears of grief falling from her eyes.

"Faden! Oh, my Faden!" she sobbed.

Everyone stood back stunned for a moment until one of the girl's brothers stepped forward and yanked his sister to her feet.

"Stop it this instant you stupid girl!" he snarled shaking her hard enough to rattle teeth. "You are making a scene!"

"You," she hissed back, tears still streaming. "You did this!"

"What is going on?" the father asked his children completely bewildered.

Wrenching herself from her brother's grasp the girl looked to her father then to the people assembled around her, noting Gimli and the elves most likely for the first time. Eyes wide, her lips quivering, she sobbed out once before bolting away from the square, fleeing down a side street.

Harsh or not, Gimli reflected as he watched the girl's condemning retreat, he was never more happy to see a young man dead.