"Gandalf?" Aragorn queried, "He went to the west, along with Frodo and the others! Why would Gandalf be here?"
"I don't know highness, perhaps you should ask him" said Pilimor pertly. His annoyance at being a messenger showed in his voice.
"Yes, I'll do that," the King said, as a white robed, and somewhat bedraggled figure threw open the throne room doors and strode into the marble hall.
Pilimor swiveled around to stand in front of the King, as if protecting him. Aragorn knew better. He is a gossip after all, Aragorn thought, amused. I bet he can't wait to tell the guard that a man presumed dead had come into the castle demanding to see the king. Gandalf never was really known for his politeness or subtlety anyway, at least around people he cared little for.
"Pilimor!" The tall, muddy figure snapped, "His highness does not need a bodyguard, least of all you. Now leave me and your King in peace."
Aragorn snorted with barely disguised laughter, but the voice certainly had its desired effect on Pilimor, who stiffened visibly and shuffled quickly around the wizard walking down the hall toward Aragorn.
Gandalf strode up the hall, only pausing when, in a rather undignified way, he stumbled over the worn hem of his robes.
"Blasted thing…" Aragorn heard him mutter angrily before he quickly regained what was left of his dignity and strode up to the throne.
Aragorn stepped down and embraced the wizard. Gandalf patted him on the back, "Hello my friend, I am glad to see you."
"I expect you are wondering exactly what it is that I'm doing here. You're not the only one, I imagine."
"Well, yes I am," admitted Aragorn, "but I am also happy you're here. And just in time for the good news too!"
"Good news?" enquired the wizard, "What good news is this? I also have some news, but you go first."
Aragorn smiled proudly, "I, my friend, am going to be a father!"
Gandalf smiled, but Aragorn sensed a sorrow beneath this façade. "I am very happy for you and your lovely wife, an heir to your throne! But I am afraid a pressing problem distracts me from fully rejoicing with you in this wonderful news."
Aragorn's happiness faltered, then failed.
"What is it Gandalf? And why are you in Middle Earth again, not the Grey Havens? What's wrong?"
"You heard Bilbo recall his adventures? The adventure with the Smaug, in the Lonely Mountain?"
"Yes," said Aragorn, keenly interested, and annoyed at the evasiveness of Gandalf's answer, "Does this involve the finding of the ring?"
"No," Gandalf replied. "It concerns the Arkenstone of Thrain."
Aragorn blinked. "The Arkenstone?" He replied after a momentary pause. "The Arkenstone that lies buried on the breast on Thorin in the heart of the Lonely Mountain? What has that got to do with your arrival? And the state of your cloak, for that matter?" Aragorn coughed.
Gandalf gave a pained smile. "I have journeyed a fair way to tell you of this. I had to, in fact, come all the way from the Lonely Mountain, so I trust my appearance isn't all that unfitting considering the ride I have undertaken." He winced, "Shadowfax may be one of the Mearas, but even he cannot always prevent saddle sores."
Aragorn chuckled. His good humour was returning. Gandalf's presence reminded Aragorn how much this advisor was sorely missed.
Gandalf paced to the window. The land was spread out before him, the fertile green hills darkening in the falling dusk. Beyond the scattered grazing sheep meandering in the distance the land grew darker, the terrain more rocky, and the Mountain range of Mordor reared up, a black silhouette against the sky. He studied the landscape with an unreadable expression on his face.
Aragorn took a place beside him, eyes wandering over the hills. "Gandalf?"
"I have come to tell you of the fate of the Arkenstone, and, perhaps, that of middle earth." Gandalf paused, and glanced sideways at the king, "The stone, the great jewel of Thrain has been stolen."
"Stolen?" Aragorn exclaimed. A shocked silence ensued, as the gravity of the matter settled, a new burden weighing on his mind.
"Who would steal it, and how? There must be some very strong dwarves between this thief and the grave of Thorin. And also, how would the stealing of the Arkenstone be enough to bring you back from the undying lands?"
Gandalf turned to face him, and just as he was about to speak, the hall's door slammed open.
"Damn." Gandalf muttered. He stepped behind a column, and disappeared. Aragorn stood in shock for a moment, and then as he remembered the opening of the door, he swivelled to face the newcomer.
"Laerwen," Aragorn said in surprise, as a young woman entered hesitantly, "What has brought you here?"
She stood, the foremost musician in the city, biting her lip as she stared at him. She was normally outspoken. Aragorn was perplexed by her silence.
"I, uh, I came to let you know that, um, that there is a man here who demands to see you immediately." She almost giggled, "A very short man, but he isn't small, if you know what I mean. He was carrying a big axe and had a big red beard. He refused to give the weapon to the guards, because he said you knew who he is…" At this she trailed off, and kept staring at him.
The girl may have a wonderful voice, he thought, but she isn't very bright. If a short man with a big red beard and an axe wasn't a dwarf, he was a fool.
"And what, pray, did the guards do to this dw– uh, man?" Aragorn asked, deliberately; this girl was clearly all voice no brains.
"Well sir, they, um, they wrestled his axe off him and then locked him in the dungeon." She said slowly, still staring at him unnervingly. "He was very cranky."
"Well," said Aragorn, "I'm not surprised. Did this man give his name?"
Laerwen looked upwards, as if straining to remember. "I think his name, was Gimlet. But I'm not sure. It's a funny name isn't it?"
Aragorn resisted a chuckle, with considerable difficulty, and he could have sworn he heard a snort of laughter from behind a pillar. If this dwarf was who he thought he was, he would not like being called 'Gimlet'.
"I'll go and check on him in a moment." said Aragorn. When the girl didn't move, he said gently, "You can go now."
Laerwen blinked, taking a while, it seemed to him, to understand the insinuation, before wandering out with a vague smile.
Aragorn sighed heavily. As beautiful as an iceberg, he thought, but unlike an iceberg she had nothing below the surface.
As this bizarre thought passed through his mind, a white figure appeared in front of him, no more then two feet from the throne. Aragorn started in shock. As he relaxed, he saw Gandalf grinning.
"Oh, very funny." said Aragorn, still a bit unnerved, "but next time try not to scare me out of my seat."
"Of course, your highness," said Gandalf, with a sweeping bow, "your wish is my command."
Aragorn raised an eyebrow, before laughing jovially. As they calmed themselves, Aragorn remembered the task at hand.
"Did you hear what she said Gandalf?" he grinned, "Some short man with an axe and a big red beard who goes by the name of 'Gimlet' is locked in our dungeon."
"Gimlet," Gandalf snorted with laughter, "Oh, he won't like that…"
- - - - - - - - - - -
Thanks heaps to my first 3 reviewers. I really appreciate the advice and just plain happiness of the reviewers. Thanks especially to Navaer Lalaith for the advice on elvish names and the URL recommended. If this is a bit of a cliff-hanger, I apologize, but it'll keep all you readers coming back for more:P