Chapter 28: Bobbing For Dwarves
The party of Elves made very good time down the Forest River, although, as the water was low, they had to portage several more times than was usual. Still, there were several hours of daylight left when they paddled up to a wharf at Lake-town and fastened their boats to the pilings. The servants set about unloading the boats, and Tathar and Tawarmaenas eagerly took it upon themselves to guide Legolas on an initial tour through the town. Both had visited Lake-town several times, Tathar in the company of his father, but Legolas had only seen it from afar, and each time from the back of a bobbing barrel. The Prince was delighted to finally have an opportunity to wander its bustling streets and observe the people and their shops, filled as they were with the sounds of exotic languages and with goods of designs foreign to him.
Amongst the hubbub of strange tongues, Legolas heard from time to time the sounds of dwarvish dialects. These languages he found uncouth, and their speakers likewise. He had no love for Dwarves, having distrusted them ever since he had been treated with such suspicion by the surly Dwarf he had encountered whilst fleeing from Mirkwood to Rivendell. Fortunately, he thought to himself, there were not too many Dwarves about, and, as they were short he told himself that he could contrive to 'overlook them', so to speak.
Long did Tathar, Tawarmaenas, and Legolas roam Lake-town, until at last the afternoon wore on and Legolas judged they ought to meet the rest of their party at the inn where the Mirkwood Elves would be staying. When they arrived, the innkeeper showed them to the chamber the three of them would share. After washing their hands and faces, they joined the rest of the company in the common room. There, to Tathar's delight, they encountered the Men who had once tried to shear his braids but who had since become the Elf's friends. The Men stood the Elves several rounds, and they and Tathar and Tawarmaenas were soon deep in raucous laughter and conversation.
Legolas had met many Men at Rivendell, and Estel of course was of man-kin. Still, it was not often that the young Elf encountered so many of them at the same time—and in such a small, crowded, noisy space, too. The scene began to overwhelm him. "I am going out for a bit," he at last whispered to Tathar and Tawarmaenas, both of whom nodded distractedly. Feeling a little forlorn, Legolas slipped to the door and wandered alone through the now empty streets of Lake-town. At length his steps took him to the lakefront, and he meandered a little about the wharfs, at length venturing onto one dock in particular and stopping to enjoy the glimmer of the setting sun upon the water.
As Legolas stood gazing at the lake, he smelled pipeweed. Looking about, he saw a tendril of smoke arising from the far side of a barrel that rested at the end of the pier. At once he was seized by the fond hope that it was Gandalf who sat smoking on the other side of yonder barrel. Stealing silently to the end of the dock, he suddenly leaped around the keg and found—a Dwarf.
The Dwarf sprang to his feet with an angry exclamation, for he, too, had been seeking solitude.
"What do you mean by sneaking up on a body?" he growled.
"I was not sneaking!" Legolas replied indignantly.
"You are an Elf," retorted the Dwarf, "and therefore by definition you sneak. How else is it to be explained that no one ever hears the approach of an Elf?"
"It is because we are graceful that we make no sound," Legolas shot back. "Unlike," he added, "some other races I could mention, who stomp about with as much grace as pregnant cows."
"Pregnant cows is it," snarled the Dwarf, who had dropped his pipe and had now placed a hand upon one of the several axes with which his belt bristled. "At least a pregnant cow is fertile, which is more than can be said for the wit of an Elf!"
"What would a Dwarf know of fertility," taunted Legolas, "when it is well known that the Naugrim crawl out from holes in the ground. Aye, turn over a rock and find a grub—or a Dwarf!"
The Dwarf drew an axe from his belt and brandished it. Unfortunately, in doing so, he stepped back slightly and teetered on the edge of the dock. Without a moment's hesitation, Legolas leaped forward and seized the first thing that came to hand, the Dwarf's beard.
"Not the beard!" wailed the Dwarf, and startled, Legolas let go, with predictable consequences.
"Curse all Naugrim," muttered a dismayed Legolas as the Dwarf disappeared with a mighty splash under the surface of the water. Rapidly he stripped off boots and cloak and dived in after him. He swam straight for the bottom. As laden as the Dwarf was with axes and chain mail, he would not drift away in a current. At least that would make him easy to find.
Legolas had surmised correctly. Directly below, on the very bottom of the lake, stood the Dwarf, mouth closed but gesticulating for all he was worth, whether in rage or fear Legolas could not tell. In one hand the Dwarf still clutched the axe, and Legolas wrenched it from him before pulling from his belt his other axes: two throwing axes, one on each side, and a large battle-axe that he bore upon his back. The Dwarf's chain mail Legolas could not remove, but with the axes gone, he was able, although with some difficulty, to draw the Dwarf to the surface. Both were panting as they crawled onto the dock. Side by side they lay for awhile, recovering their breath.
"I suppose," the Dwarf gasped at last, "I have you to thank for pulling me from the water—although, I might add, I also have you to thank for my having fallen into the water in the first place!"
"As for your first statement," retorted Legolas, "you are welcome. For your second, I didn't tell you to wave an axe about whilst standing on the edge of a pier!"
"Axe!" spluttered the Dwarf, suddenly remembering. "My axes!" He crawled to the edge of the dock and peered over it. "Whatever am I to do!? What shall I tell my father!? And those two throwing axes were uncommonly well balanced! And that was my largest battle-axe!"
Now, Legolas valued his own weapons and would have been loath to have lost his carefully crafted bow or his matched knives, a gift from Elladan and Elrohir and an heirloom of their house. He heart softened—although only a little! He did not offer to dive down to retrieve the axes, but he did provide the Dwarf some comfort.
"It grows late," Legolas said, "and will soon be dark. But in the morning I have no doubt but that you will be able to find some boys hereabouts who will be glad to dive down to retrieve your axes. You needn't fear losing them, as they will stay right where they are."
"They'll rust," muttered the Dwarf.
"One night will not ruin them," replied Legolas. "As soon as they are recovered, I am sure you will dry and polish and oil them—you look like a Dwarf who values his weapons and knows how to care for them."
The Dwarf grunted a little at the compliment and then uttered a compliment in return, albeit grudgingly.
"You are fair spoken—for an Elf."
He arose, and Legolas arose likewise.
"Fare you well, Master Elf," the Dwarf mumbled.
"And you likewise," answered Legolas.
With that the two parted. Legolas, carrying boots and cloak, returned to their inn, where Tathar and Tawarmaenas still sat hoisting drinks with his companions. Slipping past the common room, the Prince made his way to their chamber and changed into dry clothes before rejoining his friends.
As for the Dwarf, he returned to the tavern where he had a room with his father, who was properly astonished when his son, dripping wet, clumped across the threshold of the chamber.
"Whatever have you been doing?" he exclaimed. "Surely not bathing, for you have already done that once this year. Besides, I would hope that you would remember from your previous bath that clothes are to be removed when you bathe—aye, and chain mail, too, lest it rust."
"I know that," grumbled the younger Dwarf. "How could I have forgotten that last bath—ugh, the soap got in my eyes and it took forever for my beard to dry. So, no, I wasn't bathing. I fell in the lake."
"Whatever did you do that for?"
"Did it for!? Did it for!? Surely you don't think I planned it! No, it was all on account of an Elf."
"An Elf! Did an Elf push you in!?" The older Dwarf reached for an axe.
"Reaching for an axe may not always be wise," observed the younger Dwarf wryly, "as I have reason to know. Father, the Elf did not push me. You will notice I said it was 'on account of an Elf'. I did not exactly say that it was the fault of an Elf. I myself bear some of the blame. I must also acknowledge that the Elf did pull me out again, else I would probably still be keeping vigil on the bottom of the lake."
"Who was this Elf?" demanded the older Dwarf. His son had to concede that he had not thought to exchange names with the Elf who had been both his antagonist and rescuer.
"But be sure that if I ever meet him again we will become better acquainted! In some ways he was not a bad lot, as Elves go. Still, it is said that it is best to know one's enemy, and an Elf is but little short of being an enemy! Nobody trusts an Elf!"
"True," agreed the father. "And you must be certain that you do learn more about this Elf, should you encounter him in the future."
The son followed the advice of his father. The next time ever he met Legolas, the Dwarf Gimli son of Gloin would indeed become well acquainted with him.