The East Gate
Authors The Eastgaters
Cast list
Frodo – Baylor
Samwise – Budgielover
Pippin – Marigold
Merry – Llinos
Legolas – Mainframe
Aragorn – Nilramiel
Boromir – Rachel Stonebreaker
Gimli – Q
The Wicked Elves – Baylor & Mainframe
The Not So Wicked Elves - Llinos
Story Editor Llinos
Beta Marigold
Chapter 14 - Interludes
"Young Master Took," Gimli tried his stern voice, the one he used to impress upon the hobbits not only his superior age, but also his superior height, a novel experience for a dwarf. "You must have faith, dry your eyes and trust in the fates – all will be well."
Pippin looked bleakly at Gimli. "I wish that were so. But all won't be well, Gimli. Not ever again." Though he had stopped sobbing, new tears coursed down his cheeks and he didn't bother to brush them away.
He raised his eyes to Boromir, knowing that the man somehow understood what had just happened and waited in dread for confirmation. Pippin could hardly bring himself to say the words.
"He's dead. Merry is dead. I felt him die, I felt it all."
Abruptly he turned away from his two friends and set off. They had escaped the Mines, they had survived another night against all odds, but Pippin felt no joy. In fact he felt as though his soul had been ripped from him.
Pippin was glad that his Merry no longer suffered that terrible physical pain, but the emotional pain he himself felt at having Merry torn from him would never fade. And he had been so happy the night before – Merry had come to him somehow. At least he had that memory to cling to and maybe by sharing his cousin's death he had made it easier, made Merry's pain more bearable somehow. He hoped that was so. What he had suffered with Merry had been terrifying, and had hurt so much!
Pippin dazedly wondered if he could bear the grief he was feeling enough to go on, but go on he must, there was nothing for it. Boromir and Gimli were counting on him and he could not let them down. Frodo needed him. Merry would expect him to carry on – and carry on he would, no matter how hard it was.
In complete silence they returned to the watercourse and continued to follow it south. As none of them really knew the location of the Golden Wood it seemed the wisest thing to do. Pippin hoped they would reach it soon. He was frantic to know if Frodo was all right, and Sam and Aragorn and Legolas, but now reaching them would also bring confirmation of Merry's death and he dreaded actually hearing the words. Pippin tried to keep his mind focussed on their surroundings but it was almost impossible and he found himself constantly brushing stinging tears away.
All that day, as they struggled onward, Pippin barely spoke and his companions respected his need to be left alone. They stopped briefly to rest twice, and both times Pippin curled up next to Boromir and withdrew into himself until it was time to move on again. He wasn't hungry and would not eat despite their cajoling.
In the middle of the afternoon they found a shallow place where the river could be forded, and after a quick council, to which Pippin contributed little, it was decided that it was time to put themselves on the same side of it as their missing companions should have been. All three became drenched in the process, and Pippin almost despaired of them getting Gimli across. It was beyond his own depth at one point and Pippin was forced to paddle with his feet and one hand, hanging on to Boromir's cloak with the other, to avoid being swept downstream. Still they kept on, their clothes sopping wet, not daring to stop and make a fire despite the chill wind. Finally they reached the outlying trees of a wood and were sheltered from the worst of the wind.
By then it was but an hour before dusk, and they were beginning to keep an eye out for a good place to camp for the night when Pippin froze. There was not much undergrowth for concealment and he could see no one, yet his sharp ears could hear faint sounds of movement. They were not alone, but had they been spotted? Certainly whatever it was must have heard them; a man and a dwarf with a broken leg made enough noise that Pippin had cringed frequently over the past two days. He held his hand up to halt Boromir and Gimli and looked about frantically. He would have no trouble concealing himself – he was a hobbit after all – but there was no hope of hiding a man and a dwarf. These two were just not good at blending into this type of environment.
There was only one thing for it. Pippin silently drew his sword and waited for the enemy to come, determined to defend his friends as best he could.
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Vanaloth and Gayadur exchanged troubled looks. "We have heard nothing of your companions," Vanaloth said after a pause, "but do not think that means they have not been found. There has been much activity this night. Do not despair! But let us travel together and perhaps we will have news soon."
No news of Merry and Legolas? Somehow Sam had been certain that Vanaloth would nod his elegant head and say, "Yes, they are safe and Meriadoc is healing nicely. We will take you to them directly." When he did not hear those words, Sam's mind went momentarily blank. Not found? Not safe?
The distress Sam saw on his master's face tore his heart. Pushing aside his own sudden grief and fear, he declared, "I'll just get us ready 'ta go while you sirs talk, if that's all right, Mr Frodo." As he had hoped, his interruption drew Aragorn's and the elves' attention away from Frodo and allowed his master a few moments to gather himself. Sam bustled over to the smoked meat, examined it carefully, and then began folding it to store away in their packs. He wasn't about to leave any provisions behind – not that he didn't trust the elves, mind you, but waste not, want not as his Gaffer had hammered into him. The meat readied for travel, Sam gave his hands a quick wash from his waterskin then began packing away their now-dry clothes, showing proper hobbit-sense for the importance of food before clothing.
Sam listened with half an ear, but most of his attention was turned inwards. He had been so sure that everything would be all right as soon as they reached Lothlórien, as soon as they met the elves. These elves had said they had heard nothing – that didn't mean that Merry and Legolas hadn't made it. The two might already be in the Golden Wood, just waiting for them to arrive. Once they had rested a little, maybe Vanaloth and Gayadur would organize an expedition back to the Mines to… to make sure. Sam held no hope in his heart that little Pippin, Mr Boromir or Mr Gimli had survived – he remembered those last horrible moments all too well. But the lad's body should be returned to his family – if they could find it. If there was anything left of it. Sam had no doubts about what uses orcs would have for their victims – no better than ravenous cruel beasts the evil creatures were. Those thoughts were too dreadful to contemplate, and Sam thrust them from his mind.
He was the one that needed distracting now. Sam scrubbed at his face with a sleeve and gave both his and his master's pack a final quick check. 'Mr Frodo's going to be stubborn about walking', he thought dismally. 'He should allow himself to be carried, let them ribs heala bit. Wish he'd listen to me.' That Sam should possibly allow himself to be carried never entered the hobbit's mind. He swung his pack over his shoulder and staggered slightly, then caught his balance.
His movement drew the others' attention to him, and Sam straightened his back and raised his head, hands tightening on the straps of his pack. He coughed discreetly. Vanaloth and Gayadur smiled at him and he felt a little better. "All ready, Mr Frodo, when you are."
Despite pain and fatigue and worry and grief, Frodo could not help but smile at his faithful servant. "Good old Sam!" he said. "But did you not hear Vanaloth just say that we would carry our packs no farther? I will not insist that you be carried, but you will not bear that cooking gear one more step."
Frodo pretended not to notice Aragorn averting his face to hide a smile as he readied himself for travel, nor did he heed Vanaloth and Gayadur exchanging amused glances. Instead, he levelled a firm look at Samwise, picked up his own pack and turned it over to Gayadur, showing that he would practice what he preached.
"We're ready to go as soon as Sam gets rid of that pack," he told their new escorts.
Vanaloth took a step towards Samwise and held out his hands for the hobbit's burden. Sam gulped and took an involuntary step backwards. One of these lordly folk carry his pack? It was right and proper that they carry his master's, and Strider's, but not his, like he was one of the Quality. Sam's hands tightened on the straps and he edged past the elf to take cover behind Frodo, giving his master an agonized look. He couldn't allow an elf – a Lothlórien elf! – to do his job.
Vanaloth's smile widened and amusement sparkled in his clear eyes. Gayadur laughed outright, and Sam darted him a panicked glance. "Now Master Samwise, I assure you I will not drop it," promised Vanaloth.
"Oh no, sir! I didn't think you would! Drop it, I mean. I mean…" Sam trailed off, aware that he was going to receive absolutely no help from his master… or Strider. They were probably laughing at him. The elves certainly were. Sam sighed. If his Gaffer heard about his son handing his pack to one of the fair folk to carry, no doubt there would be Words.
Against his heartfelt wishes, Sam shrugged off the pack and walked forward to hand it to Vanaloth. The elf shouldered it easily, then pulled it around to loosen the straps to accommodate his larger frame. Trying the fit again, Vanaloth nodded, satisfied, and smiled at the hobbit, seeking to put him at ease. 'What strange folk theseare,' thought the elf. 'They are wounded and exhausted to the end oftheir strength, yet still they cling to their odd notions ofpropriety.'
Gayadur met his fellow elf's eyes and smiled, knowing exactly what his companion was thinking. "Come," he said gently, "we must go."
Sam sighed again, defeated.
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Legolas desperately wished to slip into the rest that would heal his body and mind, but he had failed Merry once and would not do so again. Though he knew he could not keep his fatigue at bay forever, he would not stop until the Marchwarden deemed it safe to do so. As he struggled to keep going he found his eyes often strayed to the unconscious bundle barely visible in Haldir's arms and felt a pang of regret that he was not strong enough to carry his friend himself.
After marching for a few hours, with only silence from the prince, save a stifled gasp now and then when their path took them over rough terrain, Rúmil could curb his anxiety and curiosity over what had happened no longer. He finally asked the question that burned bright in his mind. "Legolas…what did you do to save the perian?"
"I have been wondering the same, brother, I have never seen anything of the like before," Orophin said, looking at Legolas in concern.
Legolas drew in a deep breath; he had tried hard not to think yet about what he had done and had pushed it to the back of his thoughts. "I prayed to the Valar and it would seem they heard me," he gasped, still finding it difficult to speak and walk at the same time, despite being supported by the two brothers.
"Yes, but that does not explain what we witnessed. By Elbereth, Legolas you shone brighter than the very stars for a time!" Orophin exclaimed.
When the prince remained silent Haldir spoke harshly in his stead. "You both know an immortal's light. 'Twas his life essence you saw drain from his body, was it not Prince?"
Legolas heard twin gasps of dismay from either side of him as the reality of what that meant hit the brothers. "Are you… does this mean…have you…?" Rúmil stuttered unable to even articulate the question.
"I do not know to what extent the Lady took what I offered," Legolas whispered.
"What you mean is that you know not yet whether she has taken your immortality!" Haldir narrowed his eyes, but Orophin sent his brother a warning glare as he watched Legolas go even paler and felt his exhausted trembling increase.
"What is done is done, brother and it was not your choice to make. The Lady Galadriel will know." But Orophin could not keep the sadness and wonder from his tone at the possibility that the price Legolas had so willingly paid to save the perian may have doomed the prince to mortal death. "But it was a noble deed!"
"We should make haste indeed. Legolas, I swear in the short time I've known you, you've been determined to turn my hair grey," Rúmil spoke lightly, ever his way to lighten dark moods.
Haldir was not amused and said nothing, not even to chide, a sign to his brothers that he was angry indeed, and he increased his pace to put a distance between them. Yet they noted his fury was not aimed at the perian. Indeed, he held the hobbit with great care and gentleness, even in his haste.
Haldir's mood was not so much grim as perplexed. 'He would throw away his immortal life and forsake his family for one who will grow old and wither in less than a century!'
Haldir wondered just what it was about this fragile little creature he now held in his arms that had touched an elf so deeply that he would offer up his immortality, or even part of it, to save him. But Legolas was clearly even more drained than he wished to admit and grudgingly Haldir shortened his anxious stride to accommodate the prince. There was no question in his mind that he still thought Legolas strange and misguided, yet he also could not condemn the conviction with which he held his duty, nor fail to acknowledge the nobility of his actions.
As Marchwarden, he and any other under his command in the Galadhrim would gladly lay down their life for their Lord and Lady and to protect their beloved Golden Wood and its people, but he was not sure if he could find it within himself to relinquish any part of his birthright for a mortal, and that worried him. If he had been in the prince's place and the Lady had entrusted him with the hobbit's life, would he have had the courage and selflessness needed to offer such a gift? Was his questioning of Legolas's actions jealousy, at the generosity of spirit and nobility revealed in the wood elf, and dismay that his own nobility might be found lacking were he ever to find himself in such a situation?
Deep in a maelstrom of thoughts Haldir almost missed the moment when two large blue eyes opened and the perian stared sleepily up at the surprised Marchwarden.
Merry looked up at Legolas carrying him. No, the face was wrong, it was not Legolas.
"Please who are you, sir? Where is Legolas? Is he all right?" Merry was surprised to find his voice so strong; he tried some more questions. "Where are we? Am I better now? Is Pippin here?"
"Which question would you have me answer first Master Perian?" Haldir quirked a small smile.
"Is Pippin here and is Legolas all right?" Merry chose.
'Concern for others first,' Haldir thought, 'interesting choice.' He lifted the perian slightly so that he could see Legolas. "There is no one called Pippin here, but Legolas is living, does that answer you, sufficiently?"
"Yes sir," Merry managed to grasp Haldir's cloak, also trapping a few strands of the elf's golden hair without realising it. "But I don't know who you are? And is Legolas all right? He looks unwell. Am I better – I was very hurt, I remember?"
Haldir reluctantly found the hobbit a fascinating contradiction as he attempted to calm the small being's fears by lifting him again, just enough to see Legolas over one broad shoulder. He could understand why the aged human couple had mistaken him for a child, for outwardly, save for the telling feet, he too would have made the same mistake from a distance, but his eyes shone with an intellect that could not be found in a child.
"My name is Haldir of Lórien and I am Marchwarden of the Golden Wood." Haldir moved Merry's hand to free his own hair and moved him back to a lower place, cradled more comfortably against his body. "As to what has befallen the prince and if he is injured you will have to ask him yourself." Haldir felt a thread of disapproval resurface but quashed it mercilessly before it reached his eyes. "And as to whether you are better; he is pale because he has depleted much of his strength ensuring your survival and needs to rest. We shall do so before long."
"I tried not to be a burden to Legolas!" Merry's face clouded with distress and worry for his friend. "Why would he do that? I'm sorry, so sorry!"
Haldir silently reproached himself for causing Merry unintended pain and the hobbit for being oversensitive, and quickly sought to distract him from this blunder.
He wondered when the hobbit had last taken liquid, or even a bite to eat; almost certainly before his injury. "Would you like some water little one?"
Haldir smiled as he watched Merry's tongue dart out and lick his dry lips before he answered with a small nod. He uncorked his waterskin and held it to Merry's lips and was pleased as the little one drank thirstily in several loud gulps before he was forced to admonish him and instructed him to sip, not gulp, unless he wished his stomach to expel it.
Just as Haldir decided the perian had had as much as was wise and pulled away the waterskin, Legolas noticed the exchange and called out to Merry. He found the strength deep within himself to push away from Rúmil and Orophin and staggered to the Marchwarden's side. Haldir waited for the prince to sit, then placed Merry into his outstretched arms.
"Merry! You are awake! Are you well? Is the pain bearable? I still have a little of the glaslichen i-if need be," he gasped.
Haldir sighed and strode away to scout the area, the prince sounded just like the halfling!
Rúmil and Orophin scowled at their brother as his grey clad form disappeared into the forest, misunderstanding his amusement for condescension. There was no need to be rude after all the pair had been through!
Orophin wasn't sure, but suspected that Legolas was in shock. They were only an hour away from the first outer flets, even now the Lady would be aware of their location, they could rest for a short while and Orophin mused that possibly it would be long enough for Haldir to resolve whatever had been bothering him since he did not wish to discuss it with either Rúmil or himself.
Security had been increased in the Golden Wood not long after the Fellowship had set out from Imladris, sentries were now posted in numbers no smaller than three and the previously seldom used outer flets were now occupied day and night as they quietly waited and watched for the Nine to arrive. Rúmil and Orophin were not privy to why these nine unlikely companions were so important, but they suspected their brother knew more than he allowed, all they had been told was that they must be protected at any price.
'Any price', Rúmil had teased Haldir as he had relayed Celeborn and Galadriel's instructions to them, but Haldir did not smile as he turned to his brother, face carefully blank and eyes gone cold and repeated those menacing words. If truth be told it scared Rúmil a little when his brother withdrew from them like that, it was as if he were able to shut off his emotions, even his voice held a note of detachment, and at those times he appeared as a stranger to Orophin and Rúmil and it pained the two brothers to see it. They never spoke of it to him, not wishing to add to their brother's burdens, but on their journey in search of the Nine Walkers Haldir had remained as a stranger to them right up until they first made contact with Legolas, and whatever information had been entrusted to him was obviously grave.
Rúmil silently sent a prayer to Ilúvatar that this war would end soon so that they may have their brother back and not have to endure this cold-hearted shell.
Haldir moved with a stealth that his unusually solidly built musculature belied, it gave him great satisfaction and was a point of pride with him that he was able to do so, for if he did not wish anyone to know of his passing, not even Celeborn who had taught he and his brothers the ways of the forest, would be able to find him.
All elves moved silently, it was their gift to move as one with nature and he found it thrilling still when a tree reached out to him to caress his cheek as he passed under it or offered him a branch to bear him when the ground would no longer suffice. In this respect he could understand the wood elf. Even as Legolas sat to rest against one of the great silver-barked Mallorn that were rare this close to the borders he felt the tree reach for the prince, curious as to what ailed him, 'why did he burn so pale?' it had asked and, when the prince had not heard, the Mallorn had groaned in distress and begun to channel some of its own ancient store of power into him, its golden-hued leaves losing some of their lustre as it poured more of itself into the wearied prince.
Haldir felt almost as distressed as the Mallorn for they were one, the elves and the Mallorn, both were immortal, both ultimately belonged in the west, and once grown both remained relatively unchanged while the world around them did not. There was great sadness beneath the breathtaking beauty of the Mallorn, for one day they knew that their beloved elves would leave this land and leave them behind, for no matter how ancient and wise the trees were, they had not the Huorns' ability to uproot themselves and move from place to place as they pleased.
The Marchwarden sighed and looked to the lightening sky, noting how the birds welcomed the coming dawn, eager to go about their business. He had deliberately taken his time, allowing the prince a good hour to rest while he in turn picked through his problems, but now it was time to move. He would feel much better after they had passed the outer flets and knew that, should they need it, help was at hand.
Meanwhile Legolas was overjoyed to have Merry back in his arms, but when Merry continued to stare up at him in distress he feared that his wound had been jostled. Then to his surprise he felt drops of moisture trailing lightly down his own cheeks and understood that was what must have caught Merry's attention as the hobbit's scared and confused gaze stared into the elf's tear laden eyes.
Legolas felt the predawn breeze chill the tear tracks on his face and realised with shame that he had frightened Merry with tears he did not know he shed. "My apologies penneth, I meant not to scare you, I am just overjoyed to see you awake and alert once more".
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"Put up your sword, young perian," spoke a light, silvery voice that could not quite conceal its amusement. "We shall not harm you." The elf followed his voice down from the tree and landed lightly just behind Pippin. "We have had rumours of your journey, for the messengers of Elrond passed by Lórien on their way home up the Dimrill Stair. But we had not heard of halflings for many a long year and did not know that any yet dwelt in Middle-earth. But you do not look evil, little one and you have naught to fear from us."
The elf was joined by two others who seemed to appear out of nowhere. All were exceedingly fair and their long straight hair hung elegantly about their shoulders, reaching down to their waists. But fair though they were, each, like Legolas, was armed with a tall bow and quiver of arrows and two long knives, elegantly carved about the handle but sharp and deadly to any foe. "A halfling! Indeed a charming little creature for all you seem so travel worn." The newcomer had the same lilting half mocking tone as the first, so that one could not be sure if he were sincere or teasing. "My apologies for the manners of my brothers, my name is Draenog and this is Wiwer and Llygodyn. Welcome to the realm of Lothlórien."
It took Boromir by surprise, this unexpected encounter with elves and their obvious weapons at the ready. He was still soaked to the skin from their river crossing and more than a little tired. He'd not been paying as close attention to the area about them as he should have been and chided himself for the stupidity of it all.
Boromir stood to his fullest, consciously concealing Gimli a bit behind him. It would not do for these strangers to see to what extent he and his companions were handicapped. He'd heard little of elves before his father sent him to meet with the Council at Rivendell. What he'd learned since came mostly from his travels with the Fellowship. The not always quiet bickering between Legolas and Gimli added weight to the knowledge there was no love lost between elves and dwarves. He remembered the story Meriadoc told one night of Bilbo rescuing Gimli's kin from Legolas' father's underground prison. Neither Legolas nor Gimli had smiled at its retelling and that particular tale was not told again, though Legolas had made an attempt to be less acerbic with Gimli in the days that followed.
Boromir's eyes narrowed a fraction as one of the elves mockingly taunted Peregrin's attempt at defence. Perhaps not all elves were as gracious as Legolas. Certainly these strangers were not to be trusted wholesale with no proof of their good intentions. He was forming a retort as he surreptitiously worked to ease his sword from its binding. They should have a care; little though he may be, the "halfling" was blooded and had proved himself a worthy combatant. Boromir was thrown off by the elf's speed and he found himself turning to catch the eyes of one who stepped around Peregrin to stand right next to him.
"We had heard there were men in this company, but you seem sadly depleted. What has become of Mithrandir?" the one called Wiwer asked with a nod in his direction. But before Boromir's brain could even decipher who Mithrandir was, the same elf rounded on Gimli and fairly spat venom.
"A dwarf! Why do you seek the protection of the Golden Wood? This is not good. We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the Dark Days. You are not permitted in our land. I cannot allow you to pass!"
Gimli gasped and spluttered, reaching for his axe and dropping his crutch in the process.
Boromir's sword never left its sheath. He found he was staring down the shaft of an arrow, the tip not two finger's breadth from his neck.
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As soon as Merry's eyes had found Legolas he understood. The elf, who had always seemed so aloof, so self-contained, perhaps caring of Frodo from duty and his promise to protect him Merry supposed, but otherwise non-committal towards the hobbits, he had given Merry his chance at life. But at what cost to himself?
Merry could feel the renewed strength in his limbs, the slight lessening of the pain in his chest, a constant companion in all his waking moments since he took the blade there, the slight easing in finding each new breath. He could talk at least, although he suspected walking and other serious activities, such as eating, might still be a problem.
The elf who had been carrying him was called Haldir and he had confirmed what Merry already knew, that Legolas had helped him in some way that involved giving part of himself. 'Why would he do that?' Merry wondered.
Even as the thought occurred, he had sensed animosity from the elf carrying him. Something in his demeanour told Merry that he resented the intrusion of a mortal and that Legolas had no business bestowing any kind of grace upon one such as he. However, the feeling was transitory, although the hobbit was admonished for gulping the water too fast and the bottle snatched away. Perhaps they lacked clean drinking water. But, even so, he felt considerably more comfortable when the abrupt elf – Haldir, something or other of the Gold Wood or some such place – handed him to Legolas, setting him carefully in the other elf's arms as he sat on the ground to rest.
Merry looked up sadly at Legolas, wondering what had happened exactly that had made Haldir so abrupt with him. Legolas seemed pale, almost transparent and very worn. 'He's somehow made himself ill with trying to make me better,' Merry thought. It was not a pleasant feeling, by rights he should have died and Legolas had no need to go sacrificing himself just to save one unimportant hobbit's life.
As Merry gazed up he saw with dismay that Legolas had tears running down his cheeks and tried to reach up to touch the dampness, although he was still too weak, "Legolas? Wha-what have you done? W-was it me? Legolas?"
Legolas studied Merry's face, and felt ashamed that his out-of-control emotions had caused his friend more grief. Sensing the perian's need to be soothed he closed his eyes, shutting out Merry's searching gaze and took a deep breath of the cool, crisp, Lórien air and forced his mind to calm and his body to relax. Merry was alive and they were now well within Lórien's borders and soon would pass the first flets. When he opened his eyes again he realised that at some point his hand, of its own accord, had started to comb through Merry's tightly strung locks and the hobbit seemed to revel in the loving caress as Legolas observed him leaning into his touch.
When he felt himself composed enough to speak without his voice breaking he brought his hand to rest against Merry's warm cheek and waited until the hobbit returned his gaze. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he chose to ignore the first question, 'What have you done?' as it would only bring Merry more worry and in truth he was still unsure himself exactly what had transpired, and so deemed the question unanswerable, but the second…he would not allow Merry to think that any of this was his fault.
Legolas smiled at the hobbit. He had noticed during their journey together that Merry tended to take a great deal of responsibility upon himself, and often seemed to question whether he had done his best. In that he was much like Aragorn, for in all the years Legolas had known the man he had never grown out of his self-doubt. That the Ranger's lifelong habit of feeling himself accountable for all things might become ingrained in young Merry was not acceptable.
"Penneth I want you to listen to me closely. You have done nothing wrong, none of what has happened is your fault," he stated firmly, while Rúmil and Orophin spoke softly between themselves to give the two friends the illusion of privacy, though he noted that Orophin was translating what he said into elvish for his brother.
"But Legolas," though the hobbit's eyes brightened they were still dulled by a shadow of doubt, "it is not right, you shouldn't give up any part of you j-just for my sake."
"Merry…" Legolas' voice took on a softer tone as he pulled the hobbit closer, "…never doubt your worth mellon-nin, you have been as important on this Quest as Aragorn or Mithrandir or any of us." And before Merry could say anything to the contrary he continued, "who was it that fearlessly attacked a cave troll at Balin's tomb? Who was it that Frodo so often turned to when he sought advice or needed to speak of his fears and doubts? Who was it that always made sure Pippin slept safely between you and Frodo each night, and insisted he had sufficient to eat, gladly sacrificing some of your own rations? And what of the speed with which you learned how to wield a sword? There are not many, my dear friend, that could find such courage to do all that you have and still find the strength to make light of dark matters when all others sink into silence and dread…I, for one, would have been lost without your light."
"I dropped my sword," Merry suddenly remembered his terrible failing. The blunder that had brought all this about. "Boromir said it's the worst thing you can do – and I did it! I'm sorry – I'm so sorry!"
"No Merry, sshhh! It was not your fault, you were outweighed – that troll was too big for you to overcome." Legolas wanted to say more but became aware that Rúmil and Orophin were now openly staring at both of them and felt himself flush under their surprised, searching stare.
Just then he felt a hand firmly grip his shoulder and actually jumped at the touch, for none of his elvish senses had alerted him to the presence of the sturdy Marchwarden and as he glared up into Haldir's frosty eyes, he saw an emotion that he could not label before the Lórien elf carefully veiled his emotions.
Haldir regretted startling the prince as Legolas scowled up at him and the hobbit seemed to shrink back into Legolas' embrace. He looked to his brothers and saw that they had already anticipated his orders as Rúmil took the empty water-skins and disappeared in the direction of a nearby spring, while Orophin shouldered his bow, re-adjusted the strap of his quiver and smoothed down his rumpled tunic. Satisfied, he turned back to the prince and removed his hand.
"We will leave now, if you are rested. Caras Galadhon is still a long march ahead of us," he said simply, not even sure himself why he felt awkward talking to the prince. Even worse Legolas seemed to be aware of this and his fair features creased a little in confusion.
"Brother, is all well?" Orophin asked in Sindarin.
The double meaning was not lost on Haldir and his face softened at his brother's concern; he loved them both dearly for no others would put up with his irritability. His lips curled just a little, barely a smile but it was enough as Orophin relaxed at seeing it. "All is well; I found nothing untoward but will feel more at ease once we pass the first flets."
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"You made noise enough as we tracked you," Wiwer looked disparagingly at Boromir, but nevertheless, lowered his bow, "have you naught to say for yourselves now?" The other two elves smiled at each other, but kept their bows targeted at the party.
Pippin shook his head a little not quite believing his ears when he heard his injured companion denied safe haven. "Do you not know the purpose of our Quest?" The weary hobbit gulped. He realised they were in a tricky situation but he was anxious to avoid direct confrontation, especially if both factions' tempers became frayed. He did not want to say the wrong thing, but felt he should step in before Gimli said something they might all regret later. "Already we have lost Gandalf, our guide, in Moria and have been separated from our companions – we desperately need your protection and help."
"Mithrandir lost? That is grievous news! We know something of your mission, but little detail was brought to us by the messengers of Elrond. All we know is that it is of great import." Wiwer dropped on one knee to better look at Pippin, "are you indeed the halfling of whom the tales were spoken?"
"I am one of four halflings who joined the Fellowship to carry out the Quest." Pippin thought it wise not to say he was the Ring-bearer, or to even mention anything about the Ring, but it might help not to deny it either. "It is very important that we find our companions again, else the mission might fail and all will be lost. Please help us."
Wiwer looked into the sincere green eyes and felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. It was hard not to smile at the earnest little face. "You are very worn and weary young perian, and we will gladly welcome you to Lothlórien and extend the protection of the Galadhrim, but a dwarf! I cannot vouch for his passage, or that of a strange and armed human, through the Golden Wood and the Realm of the Lady Galadriel."
Pippin blinked at this offer. He could not accept the protection of the elves and leave good old Boromir and his stalwart friend Gimli behind. But how should he, a mere hobbit, argue with these grand and important elves? They seemed so different from Legolas, but he was used to talking his way around problems and now was no time to falter. "But Gimli is no threat to you or your people," Pippin turned to the dwarf and pointed at his injury, "he has a broken leg and even if he should wish you ill, which I am sure he does not, there is no mischief or harm he could cause you or your kin. Surely you would not turn away an injured traveller?" Pippin saw the tinge of amusement on Wiwer's face and realised that the elf was thawing a little. "And Boromir is the son of the Steward of Gondor, a great prince! He has defended me and my kin on our long journey and has a true and noble heart. Gandalf himself said so."
Wiwer nodded to Draenog and Llygodyn to lower their arrows. Draenog shrugged at his brother, "I think the little one is right, we show too much caution for a lame dwarf and a lone human, I think we should take them to the Lady and let her decide their fates. She may have tidings from Lord Elrond that we know naught of, here on the borders."
Llygodyn nodded his agreement. "We cannot abandon them here, and it would be unjust to slay them, they are not orcs and we know they have a mission of some import."
Pippin drew a deep breath, so far so good, he just hoped Gimli and Boromir would go along with his arguments and not make too much trouble.
Gimli listened to Pippin's prevarications with irritation. The lad had been through so much; why were these arrogant elves pressing him, forcing the little one to think on his feet when he could barely stand?
Gimli did not particularly want to enter Lothlórien. He mistrusted and even feared the Sorceress of the Wood, and knew well the long-standing enmity between elves and dwarves. Yet he was injured, badly, and his companions were exhausted and hungry. But with orcs behind them and no resources among them, he saw no choice but to ask for help from these strange – and far too tall – creatures.
Wiwer smiled at Pippin then stood and turned to his brothers, "I agree, but the dwarf must be blindfolded."
Gimli bristled, all thought of his broken leg fled. "I will most certainly not be!" he roared, nearly toppling in his fury. "How dare you distrust me, me Gimli son of Gloin, who was selected by the Lord Elrond Halfelven himself to be a member of this Fellowship? What right have you to disregard his decision and pass judgment on me?"
He looked at Pippin's weary face, and at Boromir's that hid, he suspected, irritation as great as his own, and then back at the elves. "This I will not do. And if it means I sit right here and starve on your borders or draw orcs to your people, I shall do so, rather than be treated with such disrespect."
He stood as upright as he could, raising his beard defiantly. "The courtesy of the elves is much exaggerated, I see. Or else they fear a lame dwarf more than the orcs of Moria."
Pippin couldn't believe his ears. After all they had gone through the past couple of days this was not something he had expected. He had thought that to reach the elves was to reach safety.
Pippin knew about the animosity between elves and dwarves of course, having grown up with Bilbo and Frodo's tales, and he had personally witnessed quite a few disagreements between Legolas and Gimli along the trail, but he had failed to consider that the elves of Lothlórien might not welcome his friend with open arms. Maybe it would have been different if Gandalf or Legolas were with them but they weren't, so they would have to work this out without any help.
"Don't be upset Gimli," he urged. "It's not fair that only you should be blindfolded, so I will be blindfolded too, and so will Boromir." He glanced quickly at Boromir hoping that he would go along with that in order to keep Gimli's anger at a manageable level, then he looked up at Wiwer with his most winning smile.
Boromir's ears were deceiving him! Did Peregrin just offer to have them all blindfolded? He looked down at the hobbit, over at the dwarf, over to the elves and back to the hobbit. Yes, the lad had just volunteered them all to submit to being blindfolded and led through unknown territory by unknown people. Elves. Not just people. But elves. He had to resist the urge to rub his eyes and groan. He settled for sighing mightily.
"If you are going to blindfold all of us," Pippin added, "I am afraid that you will have to carry Gimli. I am sure that Boromir will be more than happy to have a rest." He flopped down on the grass and sniffed. "Now that's settled, I don't suppose that you have anything to eat? I can't go another step without food and a bit of rest!" Pippin's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. "See how hungry I am," he complained as noisily as his belly. "Even my stomach is grumbling now."
"Please forgive us." Wiwer bent down next to the hobbit and reached into a bag slung around his neck and withdrew a leaf-wrapped package. "Here, this should sustain you for the present."
"Thank you!" Pippin's eyes grew wide as he unwrapped the leaves and found white wafers layered together to make things that looked like large cakes – perhaps something like a three corner pastry or an apple turnover. He bit into one quickly and closed his eyes in bliss at the delicious taste.
With the fingers of his left hand now rubbing the bridge of his nose, Boromir gave in to the situation. You can't fight the logic of a hobbit. Not because it is always sound but because they are so stubbornly tenacious. But he smiled at the sight of the expectant little face looking up at their "hosts" with such a hopeful and guileless expression, and was not in the least surprised when the elf presented food to Pippin. He knew that look. It was a very practiced look. It was amazing just how fast Boromir had learned to read Meriadoc and Peregrin. He wondered how Frodo had put up with them for so many years.
Meriadoc. Dead, for Boromir did not doubt Pippin's perception where Merry was concerned. Frodo. Had he made it to safety? These elves had admitted to never having seen a halfling. But perhaps they still might know of his companions' fates, had some word maybe? A panic seized Boromir as a memory flashed in his head. Merry going down under a blow. The Ring-bearer struggling in a sea of orcs to reach his fallen cousin's side. The Ring had nearly been taken back there in Moria. What might have happened to It since, or to Its bearer? Was all already lost? In a rush he blurted, "Do you know if..." but he stopped himself. It was better if he did not mention Frodo directly. Even though these elves did not know exactly what their Quest was, Boromir trusted very few these days and it would be better to keep silent. He'd feel much better once he laid eyes on the rest of their Fellowship.
With all eyes on him and an unfinished sentence hanging in the air, Boromir had to think fast. To whom should he make his demands and just how far could he go with them? "Draenog," he addressed the elf who had made the introductions, for he assumed this was the eldest brother.
"Forgive us our manners. We are weary beyond reckoning. We have fought orcs and wolves, sustained serious injuries and have travelled with little rest to reach your borders. We seek shelter and relief. Yes, we are part of the group of whom Lord Elrond sent word." He hoped his little exaggeration about fighting the wolves and not just watching them bound on past didn't set off any warnings in the elves' heads or that either of his friends would just happen to find it an appropriate time to remind him he always stressed telling the truth. Holding his arms to his sides with palms slightly out he continued in his best court voice.
"I will go blindfolded," he acknowledged. He added silently, 'If only to move us closer to a place where I mightfind some quiet and salvage what little sanity I have left.' "We gladly submit to your request, for we respect your concerns," he continued. "Considering the dangers so close on your doorstep, I agree, it is wise to be cautious. We are of no threat to you, wounded and weary as we are, but who are we, a man, a halfling and a dwarf, you ask." Faramir once told him that when he got rolling Boromir could charm the wool off a sheep. An odd thing to remember just then, he was never too sure if his brother was giving him a compliment or not.
"We are indeed of Mithrandir's Company. It strikes us to our hearts that we have lost our friend and guide in the Mines of Moria. In the heat of the battle we lost track of the others. We know some were gravely wounded, and fear that at least one other of our companions did not survive, to our great sorrow. We hope our numbers have not been diminished to what you see." He looked directly at Wiwer sensing this elf would be the one to sway the other two.
"Do you know of any others who may have reached your borders? We seek our friends and fear their injuries may have delayed them." Boromir intentionally did not give anyone's name or rank and silently willed Peregrin, for once, not to start in on his own genealogy.
Oh, how he wished this all just to be over so that he could immerse himself in a hot bath with a cup of cool wine and the thoughts of a snug, warm bed to follow. If wishes were horses then all men would ride. And they had no horses in their immediate future he knew. He had no choice but to trust to the graciousness of these elves. Elves! Boromir cocked his head just a little to the side and smiled. It was an act of deference that grated on him but he knew it had to be done if they were ever to be allowed to move on and find the others.
Draenog considered the man. He seemed to be calming down from his initial hostility so the least the elf could do was to offer what information he had. "There has been much orc activity in this area of late and, as a consequence, we have had little news from Caras Galadhon, the Realm of The Queen Galadriel. We know nothing of your companions, but, as you are prepared to wear the blindfolds, we will quickly escort you to her."
Boromir was not happy with what Draenog relayed. There was no news of their friends. He was doubly dismayed to hear they intended to insist on the blindfolds. He opened his mouth to voice his concern over the terrain and the difficulty of moving a dwarf with a broken leg but was interrupted by Llygodyn. "Do not fear for your safety. You shall be guided with skill and courtesy and the dwarf, my brother and I will carry between us."
They read minds. Yes, they most surely do. It is the only answer. Though he joked to himself and he knew he'd given away his apprehension by looking with such concern at Gimli, Boromir was still not happy.
Pippin, still munching enthusiastically as only a starved hobbit can, heard with dismay that these elves had no news of Frodo or the others. His heart sank and he sighed, thinking how much better still the cakes would have tasted if the others, if Merry, were there to share them. Merry. He would have liked these cakes. Pippin hiccupped at the thought and the cake fell from his hand. But then a strange warmth came over him that he did not quite understand –it seemed in that moment that Merry himself was bidding him to eat, so that he would be strong enough to face whatever might happen next. Pippin picked up the bit of cake and continued chewing.
"In the meantime, please, there is time for a little rest and you should take some food, we still have far to go," Llygodyn continued. He offered Gimli his arm so that the dwarf would be able to ease himself to the ground. "Perhaps you will allow us to re-bind your wound – we may be able to lessen the pain."
Gimli refused the offered arm out of principle but he would have serious difficulty getting to the ground without aid. He had shifted his weight and resigned himself that he would remain standing when a most ferocious pain shot through his injured leg bringing tears to his eyes. He suddenly feared if he did not sit now, that he would faint and that would be far worse than accepting aid freely given. Gritting back a grunt of pain, he groped for the elf's support and eased his way down.
"Please, will you not sit?" Draenog asked Boromir. "You too must be hungry and there is lembas enough for all. Wiwer?" Draenog looked questioningly at his brother. "You have lembas do you not?"
"I gave it to the halfling." Wiwer turned to where Pippin was popping the last piece of the cakes into his mouth. "There is plenty for..." The elf stopped abruptly, his mouth dropping open in surprise. "Did you eat all that? By Eru! You'll explode!"
Pippin looked up happily licking his fingers. "Yes – it was lovely – have you any more?"
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TO BE CONTINUED
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Notes
Introducing His Royal Highness Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood
Greetings and compliments to all Gentle Readers who happen upon this page and especially to you Fairest of all Readers who also Review. It has fallen to my lot in this chapter to offer, on behalf of all the writers, their sincere thanks and deepest appreciation to you for taking the time to read and even to say a few words. They delight in each and every comment, be it an elegant compliment or an ecstatic squee!
So, in deference to their hard work, and although my eyes are veiled and the darkness of mortality looms heavily across my soul, I shall endeavour to answer a few of your comments or to make a fitting observation of my own, while I still have sweet breath in my body.
Reasonably crazy: I'm so relieved that Merry is okay! hugs Merry and Pippin
Legolas: Have a care, he is still rather tender there!
Lindsay: I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU ALMOST KILLED MERRY!
Legolas: Fear not, the hobbit is in safe hands – elves make excellent companions and save a fortune in medical bills.
Pip4: "hugs Legolas" Get better yourself please.
Legolas: Ahem – thank you most graciously for the "hug thing" – it was extremely interesting. I shall endeavour not to meet an untimely end, but sadly my life is in the hands of the Valar and the Authors! I fear the latter most!
Pip4: Hopefully Pippin will realize soon that Merry isn't dead.
Legolas: Sadly, I believe he has stopped broadcasting on that wavelength for the moment.
LOTRFaith: I have been reading this for the last few chapters posted and find myself intrigued at this new way of the fellowship breaking...
Legolas: Well it's not quite broken – more coming apart at the seams.
Freya: Now to whoever is so helpfully fielding questions this time, may I humbly suggest that they remind those around Merry that they should bundle him up warmly, as we don't want him catching a chill!
Legolas: I beg your pardon – oh you mean me! Fear not fair reader – I have delegated the task to Haldir, as I'm a bit poorly myself just now.
domstygerr: Thank the Gods for you Legolas.
Legolas: Yes please do – could you put in a good word for me and my immortality too while you're there – I'll be simply lost without it.
Lindahoyland: This was just so heartrending. I love the bond between Pippin and Boromir
Legolas: Pippin and Boromir are bonded? And I thought the man was making eyes at me – oh well.
Legolas: Well you know how it is with Grandmothers always gossiping and making snow with their beds. Actually, Llinos tells me that it was what her Grandma used to tell her when they shook the featherbed, so who knows where Granny Llinos heard it.
Ringmarciel: Poor Merry, but we can't have him dying now can we. I hope there's a lot of angst ahead!
Legolas: How very astute of you, it would have been foolish to let the small hobbit die, especially as most readers are here for the angst. How much more angst ridden and spectacular if I were to die! No wait a minute – come back you authors! That was just an idle observation – I didn't mean it!
FrodoBaggins87: Oh...my...gosh...you geniuses deserve every single one of these two hundred sixty-eight reviews, twice over!
Legolas: It's all about the authors is it? What about us, the poor characters, filthy, manipulated, some of us losing our immortality, and have you seen the state of my hair lately?
Mae Ari:You frightened me beyond my wits when you killed Merry. I just wanted to sit down and sob.
Legolas:My sincere apologies Gentle Reader. I shall speak to the authors at once for causing you such distress. Actually Meriadoc knows a good law firm if you think you have a case for compensation.
Ica: Three cheers for Legolas and his elven CPR.
Legolas: Hip, hip hooray! Oh, I suppose that's in rather poor taste…my sincere apologies.
Ica: I was worried there for a moment, when he was just clutching Merry and rocking him. But I should have known to have faith in Legolas.
Legolas:Indeed, if you can't trust me to save the day, who can you trust! What? Who? The others in the Fellowship? Three hobbits, two men and a dwarf? That's just crazy talk!
Auntiemeesh: I'm quite impressed with Legolas and his snazzy elven CPR.
Legolas: I am thinking of writing a book and giving seminars when I get back home. This could be a whole new career for me. Meriadoc says we should go into partnership – be a nice little earner he said, whatever that means.
Bubonic Woodchuck: And behold, Meriadoc was revived, and there was much rejoicing.
Legolas: I hope that someone will revive me soon. I find that channelling ones life essence into another is terribly draining.
Anniy: Whoa. You are all evil. Pure evil.
Legolas: I beg to differ. I may have given up my immortality, which I think was rather glorious of me. Oh you mean the Authors? I'll tell them.
Anniy: In such an excellent story as this, is there any hope for a happy ending?
Legolas: Master Samwise says that the best stories don't always have happy endings. But we can only hope.
Ziyal: What a wonderful chapter! Legolas! I will never forget, what you did for poor Merry!
Legolas: It was the least I could do, Mistress Ziyal. What would the others say if I turned up a hobbit short!