Chapter 12: To Govern and To Guard
Gimli found the southern tip of the eyot at last. He had begun to feel as if he'd run the full length of the Anduin, though the Moon had hardly begun his own trek across the sky. Still the footprints padded along in front of him, teasing his tired mind and coaxing him to follow wearily in their wake over the rocks and gorse. As doughty a Dwarf as had ever walked the wealth of the world, the tumult of the past few days and the lack of meaningful sleep had sipped away at his strength; his endurance was flagging much sooner than he would have accepted. But the chase was nearly up, for good or ill; he had reached the end. He reined his dogged pace into a cautious approach and strove to arrange his faculties in anticipation of the enemy. When he caught up with Gollum, he thought he just might replace his well-worn boots with new ones fashioned from the creature's slithy little hide.
Gimli picked his way carefully around a subtle, bare outcropping as high and a half as his height and he stole forward along the bank, shifting his shoulders beneath his clinging shirt; he tried vainly to bring his heavy breathing to measure so that he could hear and not be heard.
Gollum would be quick and crafty, wagered the Dwarf. By all accounts, the creature chose the dark of night to slink and sniff about. Its eyesight would be as sharp as a cat's and its ears twice as keen. Gimli had never seen Gollum, but the loathed descriptions he had been given left little to his imagination; he was rather anticipating a glimpse of it at last. He knew it had followed them since Moria; he could not help but overhear the hushed bits of discussion between Legolas and Aragorn, and Frodo was ever looking uneasily over his shoulder as if he were afraid of his own shadow, which was exactly the case. Gimli kept half an eye out for Gollum himself; he had thought casually that it would be a fine thing for the Dwarf to catch their unwelcome tagalong ere Ranger or Elf could manage it, but nary a glimpse of glowing eyes nor slap of flapping feet had ever come to his attention before.
If the creature was aware of his approach, would it run? Or would it creep and crawl and wait to strike at him from the darkness? When cornered it might prove a dangerous thing, but the strangling strength of those clinging fingers would have a time trying to wrap around the sturdy neck of a Dwarf. It was likely the creature would bolt, rather, and there was no way to cut off its escape here in the open. Lest he catch Gollum at complete unawares, slaying it or capturing it would be nigh to impossible. He would have to content himself with driving it off.
The creature hunted Legolas. It seemed absurd, but that was what it was doing, and Gimli could not fathom its purpose. Perhaps it was simple malicious mischief, seeking to pick off the lone wanderer from the circle that did protect the Ring-bearer. 'Twas a risky undertaking; only desperation or madness would have compelled Gollum to leave the concealing water upon such an errand. But the creature suffered its fair share of both, and desperation and madness oft lent strength beyond natural bounds. Likely Legolas would have the upper hand ere Gollum could so much as squeak, if the thing were bold enough to draw too near. And yet, Gimli had to admit it was also feasible that a creature that had honed its skills at murdering and hiding might prove a match for an unwary wanderer in a place such as this.
Gimli shook off his fears; no sound had yet come to the Dwarf's ears to suggest any such thing had happened, and there should have been some indication had a mortal encounter occurred between Legolas and Gollum out here in all this darksome silence. That bit of reasoning gave to Gimli some little hope at least, if not much reassurance.
The Dwarf planted his feet painstakingly and continued forward, choosing firm ground lest the rattle of loosened stones give him away to any who lingered near. He crouched slowly and groped for a sizable rock, not a little chagrined at having to resort to such a crude weapon, but feeling better for having something in his hand should the need for it arise. He clutched the stone, absently hefting it and feeling the rough edges dig into his calloused palm. With the practiced, solid grace of a Dwarf on the prowl, he eased about the sloping ridge of the eyot's end and squinted out at the sight of the glinting water.
The branch of the River that sundered the small isle from the western shore was here swallowed up by the larger mass carrying on past the eastern bank, and the merging streams closed off the edgemost tip of the island to a sweeping sandy point. Gimli's heart gave a sickening lurch as his eyes came to rest upon a familiar form huddled on the ground not far in from the water's margin.
He had found Legolas.
The Dwarf hesitated; he exhaled slowly and the cool night air misted before his lips. He stood stark-silent for just a moment, scanning the sand for any signs of the enemy whose trail had led him here. Gollum's footprints continued on down the shoreline, arching directly towards the Elf, but Gimli could not see the creature, nor was there any movement discernible but for the wave upon wave of rippling moon-lit water and the shifting shine of his companion's hair in the breeze.
Countless theories leapt at him from all the dark corners of his mind as to why the Elf should be slumped upon his knees in the sand as he was; none were pleasant. Gimli chewed at his lip with consternation and drew a sleeved arm across his forehead to mop the chill sweat from his brow ere it could sting his eyes. He shifted the rock in his grasp and wiped his hand upon his trousers and watched.
Still nothing moved. There was no foe lurking in the shadows; there was only Legolas, kneeling there. The faint light of the slivered moon bathed the level shoreline enough to give the Dwarf a clear view. There was naught to be seen but the Elf and the water. Legolas was motionless, and at least it seemed he was not in immediate peril.
Or he was beyond peril.
The Dwarf bit back a bitter oath. Had he come too late? The apprehension became too much; Gimli gripped the rock in his hand and stepped into the open. He clambered forward down towards Legolas, sliding through the loose shale. He stalked over the sand with baleful determination, daring any creeping night-time thing to cross his path.
The slush of gravel and water beneath his boots heralded the Dwarf's approach, but Legolas did not look up; he remained on his knees. His head was bowed and his hands were twisted into a knot in his lap.
Gimli slowed and stopped still several paces away. His eyes swept solicitously over Legolas, seeking any indication that the Elf was hurt, but he could see no blood, no sign of a struggle. Traces of those elongated gripping feet were to be found all about on the wet ground, though the maker of the marks was not. Gimli frowned uncertainly; he folded his arms tightly to hoard what warmth was left in his body ere the wind could snatch it away and he considered the Elf's state.
Legolas was not asleep, for his hands were clenched. When Legolas allowed his mind to rest, whether he was lying upon the ground or walking open-eyed along the trail, his hands were slack, relaxed. Gimli had noted this long ago when he had thought it wise to be familiar to the ways of the Elf if ever he had need to take him by surprise.
Gimli grimaced and abandoned that particular trail of thought as hastily as he would have abandoned a path leading down a dragon's den. He carefully slid the bit of knowledge back into the recesses of his memories to be locked away and left alone. By Durin's Light, the last thing he needed to do was begin cataloging the Elf's vulnerabilities! He shuddered. Very well, Legolas was not asleep; he was injured, or mired deep in thought. Or ignoring him.
Deep in thought! Gimli assured himself. Not ignoring me, not plotting some dire revenge. He is buried deep in thought or is lost in pain and is unaware of me, that is all... and why do I hesitate to say something, say anything, after all this toil it has cost me to reach him, I stand here breathing down his neck and chasing wild speculation...
He waved away his misgivings and the sibilant whispers and decided it would be wise to speak to the Elf ere he fluttered off into complete derangement and began talking to himself aloud.
"Legolas? It is Gimli."
The Dwarf cringed. The Elf would have to be deaf as a post and as clever as one to not know it was him, but it was all he could think to say. Gimli did not allow his voice to betray his weariness or his worry. He could not quite bring himself to completely lower his defenses; he settled upon a show of cautious concern, hoping the Elf would respond.
He did. Legolas sighed and lifted his head. He looked up at the Dwarf with eyes that shone wide and staring in the darkness, chasms of emotion that invited the Dwarf to fall into them and drown in the misery that filled their depths. But then Legolas blinked and adjusted, and the emotion was gone, closed back up ere Gimli could see more. Legolas offered him instead a faint, despondent smile.
"Could there be any doubt?" replied Legolas. "Such a dwarvish racket you make, you shall give us away to all and sundry between here and Anorien," he quipped gently. "If our hope lies in secrecy, I shall have to teach you to walk as an Elf."
The remark was half-hearted and tossed off his tongue out of habit, Gimli knew, but he responded in like, falling willingly into the easy rhythm of give and take with Legolas that was familiar to them both.
"Mmmm... aye," he rumbled. "I have a few choice comments to make about elvish feet this night, my friend, but they are numerous and I've spent too long thinking them up to waste them so readily. I shall keep them to myself for now and plague you with them later." Gimli smiled back, but knew it appeared as stiff upon his face as it felt. The stiltedness of his own voice annoyed him. "What has happened to you?" asked the Dwarf.
Legolas looked positively haggard. Strands of damp hair clung to his face and trailed down his neck and shoulders like rivulets of pitch; his pale skin was streaked with grit and sand and he was dripping wet. The Elf's cheeks were bloodless. His clothing was in disarray and caked with mud. His appearance was akin to that of a shipwrecked mariner washed up in the wake of some terrible storm. The Elf seemed tired. The common liveliness of his eyes was smothered and dim. This frailty was something Gimli had never expected to see, had never expected to be allowed to see, and he found it unnerved him more than had the anticipation of danger waiting in dark places.
Legolas mimed the Dwarf's uneasy scrutiny; Gimli knew by the expression on the Elf's face that he looked no better than his companion. Gimli thought to turn away, but instead he lifted his chin in response and calmly locked his eyes with the Elf's. All pretenses aside, he told himself. We have hid ourselves within our armor long enough and it can protect us no more. Let us see how we shall do without it. His knees did not wish to bend, but he marshalled his will regardless and drew close enough to crouch upon a level with the Elf.
Legolas proved less resolute. He drew back from him; the wind kicked up and lashed their faces. The Elf lowered his head, turning himself away from the touch of the sharp air and the earnest eyes of the Dwarf.
"I think I should rather you remain at a distance," said Legolas.
Gimli took immediate offense. His eyes flashed with indignation and he made to reply, but the Elf interrupted him ere he could with an anguished shake of his head.
"Nay, Gimli, you misunderstand me," cried Legolas. "I bear no ill will toward you, truly I do not. I would undo all I have wrought this night and stay the fey madness that took my mind and guided my deeds, but even now I cannot trust myself to amend matters and not aggravate them."
Gimli looked at Legolas. "I see," he said quietly. "Therein lies the danger of leaving an Elf alone with his thoughts for too long. By now you have condemned yourself beyond hope and have spent all this time inventing pretty words to do your misery justice. Do I not deem rightly? And I guess by now you've blown up this minor obstacle into a mountainous calamity to better fit the confines of that vast and immortal mind of yours. I am glad for my own limited imagination. It must be exhausting to be an Elf."
Gimli meant his words to be light, but he regretted them immediately. The slight tap of his sarcasm splintered the veneer of composure the Elf had contrived and between the cracks the Dwarf saw the utter exhaustion from which his companion was indeed suffering, body and soul. The Elf swallowed hard and kept his eyes averted as if accepting a punishment he deserved. Legolas looked about as… unelvish as Gimli could ever remember seeing him. No clever retort was forthcoming, no playful banter. Without meaning to, Gimli had struck the Elf's heart whilst aiming for his pride.
"And it was you who did fear to aggravate and not amend," said the Dwarf brusquely. "Forgive my idle tongue." He searched Legolas's face anxiously. He tried not to look so closely, but there was no help for it; he caught sight of the deepening dark bruise and bloody gash that he had caused upon the Elf's flesh.
An unwelcome surge of elation welled up within Gimli. He tasted the hot taint of savage delight and he licked it from his lips. It was a thrill of warm blood and the rush of superiority over a fallen foe. It was a feeling the seasoned Dwarf knew well, but this was something darker even than a warrior's temperament, something that disgusted him. It was hideous lust he would never have believed did dwell in him. It was gratification in the suffering he had caused, pleasure in cruelty so intense that it drew an indulgent purr from deep within him. He choked it back as best he could and swallowed it, though it brought his gorge to rise. He berated himself and cast his eyes immediately from the Elf to the ground, flushing red with anger and self-reproach.
Legolas saw only the small smirk that flickered upon his lips. The Elf's face grew dark. He closed his eyes and turned from him. "If it was your purpose to seek me here and find satisfaction in seeing me brought to my knees, your desire has been fulfilled," he hissed bitterly. "Drink in the sight, and then let me be."
The heat in the Dwarf's veins evaporated as the sudden quenching of tempered iron. Gimli stiffened and a tremor swept through him; his own fatigue and frustration rendered him mute. All the worry, the determination, the strength he had built up from fragile stores crumbled away at sound of the Elf's caustic words, leaving him empty and quaking and unable to move his limbs or his lips.
"Such was not my intention, Legolas," he managed to say at last with some effort. "I find no satisfaction in seeing you in pain."
"I am in no pain," replied Legolas.
"Then fortunate you are, son of Thranduil, for you are the only one this evening who is not," snapped Gimli, and the heat rose again. "Perhaps you enjoy these solitary little excursions in the middle of the night. I find the warmth of a campfire and the reassurance of close comrades preferable to desolate meditation, but Elves are strange folk, and if this is what suits you, perhaps I should leave you to it!"
Gimli's ears roared and he swallowed hard, trying to clear them again. Like fuel flung upon a fire, each word fed a rising fury that would undo both of them. The whispers filled his mind. He cast a hand irritably about his head to sweep them away and he cursed his own feeble will.
His movement caught Legolas's attention and the Elf gave him an odd look. Gimli heeded it not. The Dwarf rose to his feet and took a few steps away. He was suddenly very much aware of the weight of the stone he still clutched tightly in his hand as he loomed over the Elf. He turned and hurled it far out into the River. The whispers subsided, the heat went away; Gimli sighed and forced himself to relax.
"Do not patronize me, Gimli," said the Elf.
"Do not lie to me and tell me you are all right," Gimli growled back at him. "Not when I find you collapsed here looking as if you have been picked up by your heels, dragged the length and breadth of this place and then tossed in the River."
Legolas hesitated. "Nor shall such flattery prevail, my dear Dwarf," he retorted.
Gimli responded with a snort. He folded his arms uncomfortably once more and stared down at the ground.
Legolas asked, "How do the others fare?"
"They sleep," said Gimli. "Frodo keeps watch."
"I did not mean to be so long away from you."
"It appears you were distracted." Gimli motioned nigh to the strange tracks that dappled the swaths of smooth sand about them.
"I was," said the Elf, but he offered no more.
Gimli remained quiet for a time, his dark eyes brooding, and then he reached into his shirt and drew something forth. He tossed it to the Elf. "What do you make of that?"
"'Tis your pipe," observed Legolas laconically, though he examined the broken edges with some interest.
"I lost my pipe in Moria," said Gimli.
Legolas raised an eyebrow and studied again the object in his hand. "Then I should say this bears an almost remarkable likeness to your pipe."
"It is my pipe!"
Legolas pursed his lips, then handed it back. "Never again shall I think to disparage the might of a Dwarf," he said. "Hard enough have I been struck before to quit my senses, but never hard enough to render those near me unintelligible."
Gimli's chest constricted. "A serious enough matter you might make of it to avoid such jesting," he said shortly. He tucked his pipe away.
"Such a serious matter I do make of it that I must jest, or break," said Legolas sadly. "Peace, Gimli. I mean no offense. With ease do I fall into worn ways with you, even when I know it is unwise. Will you tell me how you came by your pipe?"
"I found it upon the riverbank," said Gimli. "It seems your splay-toed friend is gifted also with nimble fingers."
"Ah," Legolas breathed in understanding. "What has it got in its pocketses?'"
"Indeed," muttered Gimli. "I would have been content never to have found out, but such was not my luck. What I should like to know is what took place between the two of you. I have spent the last hour imagining the terrible things I might find when I caught you up, only to discover the thief fled and you unharmed."
"You are disappointed?"
"That is not what I meant and I do not appreciate the implication," said Gimli coldly. "Will you not speak of it?"
"He was here. He is gone," replied the Elf.
"I gathered that much." Gimli gestured again at the tracks. "It looks as if the creature left without hindrance."
"I let him go."
Gimli looked at him, startled. "Whatever for?"
Legolas stiffened resentfully. "My reasons were my own and I did naught to endanger the Company, though by your manner you think so!"
Gimli bit his tongue but found it was too difficult to not strike back when struck first. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps you might give me a clearer answer and ease my mind!"
Legolas stood up. He flung his wet cloak over his shoulder with a sodden snap and regarded the Dwarf with an imperious glare that belied his haggard appearance. "I doubt very much that anything I might say should even penetrate your mind!" The Elf slashed his hand through the air with a sharp, negating motion. "I did not ask you to seek for me!"
Gimli bristled. "Nay, you did depart in a fit of self-pity and, like a fool, I followed after you."
"For my sake or your own?" countered Legolas.
"Thus is my reward for troubling myself!" growled Gimli.
"A fool you are," cried Legolas, and he seemed to grow taller as his passion climbed. Anger whipped the depths of his green eyes into twin maelstroms of emotion and a glint of silimant light shone within them. "A fool you are, and you are no companion of mine. I want you nowhere near to me. Get you gone!"
"I will not!" Gimli clenched his hands into fists. The flames were fanned. "I shall not be ordered about by a..." He swallowed the hollow rage that threatened to become real and thanked the Valar for the absence of his weapon. "I will not leave," he finished simply. He folded his arms once more to indicate his determination, and to quell the itch that tingled like needles and pins at his fingertips to have at the Elf, axe or no axe.
"You will not..." echoed the Elf contemptuously. "What is this, Glóin's son? A show of pride? Would you keep up this semblance of friendship and convince even yourself that the ugliness that seethes from your soul this night is a creation of the Ring? It is not. Ever have there been hard feelings between us!"
Even as the words tumbled from the Elf, the storm subsided in his eyes and the fey white light in them was swallowed by grief. "Perhaps it shall ever be so between us, Gimli," he whispered. "Our differences are great. The Ring is an instrument of evil and has not the ability to create what does not exist. It mocks but it cannot make."
Gimli looked at Legolas steadily for a long time, and then he said, "The Ring makes use of us and twists our excusable faults into inexcusable sins, son of Thranduil. It cannot create, but it does feed and distort the tiniest fragments of selfishness and hatred it finds in all our hearts. It would turn us to mere beasts at the mercy of our whims and basest natures."
"Are we not?" The Elf turned his head and fixed his gaze upon the Dwarf. His eyes lingered not upon Gimli's face but upon a point below his folded arms. The Dwarf glanced down and noticed the splotching red stain that showed at his ribcage; the Dwarf's wound had been aggravated by his exertions and the blood had seeped through the bandaging and the light linen of his shirt.
Gimli grunted with annoyance and cast his cloak forward to hide the tell-tale spot. "We are not," said the Dwarf. "I should not be out here if that was true. Neither would you. You irritate me to distraction at times, my friend - most times, truth be told - but I bear no deep, unfulfilled desire to end that incorrigible, eternal life of yours. Do you harbour that much resentment for me?"
The plain hurt in Gimli's voice trussed the heart of the Elf and jerked it from his breast; Legolas hung suspended in speechless grief for a second ere he was able to answer, "Nay, I do not, Gimli."
"Then come, Legolas. Fight it," the Dwarf bade him. "I do not have the strength left to fight it for both of us. We were able to set aside our differences for a time, but now unfairly are we set at unnatural odds. The Ring would use our strife to hinder Frodo's steps, and lest you plan upon leaving the Ring-bearer to defend himself, I see no other way for us but to resolve this somehow!"
Legolas rubbed the back of his hand across his face and blinked away the sand that dusted his lashes. He drew a soft sigh and it was his turn to flush with shame. "You speak wisely, Gimli," he said. "My words are but empty maunderings and not at all what I intended for you. Forgive me, but I do feel it still." He closed his eyes and fell quiet.
"Oi!" exclaimed Gimli. "Legolas, stop withdrawing like that. Silence seems to breed contempt between us. Speak if you are troubled."
"I know not what to say," protested Legolas.
"It matters not! Speak anyway. I would rather hear you speak than listen to the whispered lies of the Ring in my head!"
"When I open my mouth I find that the lies of the Ring are what come forth, Gimli! I should say I am not myself, but no longer can I tell!" He turned around and began to walk away.
Gimli was startled by the sudden end the Elf brought to their conversation. "Where are you going?" he demanded, and moved to follow.
Legolas gave no answer, but strode obliviously across the shore and off into the River.
"Legolas?" The Dwarf hitched his cloak about his shoulders and stomped after him, plunging undeterred into the water as well. "Where are you off to, you fool of an Elf? Turn and speak to me. You cannot leave?" Surely he was not leaving. The Dwarf felt anger rise within him, but the crisp water leached it away and left him sputtering helplessly. "I will not let you leave!" he blustered. Legolas paid him no heed. "Legolas, by Aulë, I will..."
Legolas stopped abruptly ere Gimli could conjure a suitable threat. The Elf's grey cloak billowed in the water that eddied about his thighs. Gimli thrust his way to his companion's side, now thrashing up to his waist in the freezing current. The cold sank into his bones; his legs became instantly numb and his voice was sucked from his chest by the shock.
Gimli gritted his teeth and looked Legolas up and down, glowering at the unaffected Elf.
"Well?" he gasped finally, realizing that Legolas intended to go no further and meant to remain there regardless of the Dwarf's uncomfortably numbing extremities. "Why are you standing in the water?"
"It helps me to think," said the Elf.
Gimli made an indelicate sound and looked out over the stream into the darkness. He nodded sullenly. Then he barked, "Fine! You do need all the help you can get." He folded his arms, feeling wet and ridiculous, two conditions a Dwarf detested most. He swung his head to glare up at the tall Elf accusingly. "Why am I standing in the water?"
"Never have I claimed the ability to fathom your mind, Dwarf," said Legolas. Gimli caught the definite hint of a smile upon the Elf's lips. "I should venture to guess it is an effort to be rid of that scent. It was not so much the noise of your graceless feet that gave you away to me as it was the rather pungent smell of rotting fish that preceded you. I fear to ask what is was you were up to ere you found me."
Gimli cleared his throat and drew himself up haughtily. "As you seemed to prefer Gollum's company to mine this evening, I made an effort to imitate the creature's charms. Have I fallen short?"
Legolas chuckled at that, a mellow sound that was genuinely yielded. "As far as company goes, Gollum's was not so poor. Much less disagreeable than some I could name."
"Gollum does not have to put up with you," grumbled the Dwarf. "Dead fish are not so vexing and never argue."
"You spent time discoursing with dead fish then, have you?"
"I do so whenever the opportunity arises," replied Gimli. Oddly, as he stood there freezing to death the Dwarf felt the tension between them slacken. It was hardly perceptible, but suddenly he was more aware of aught around him and inside of him. Legolas, too, seemed to revive a little and his eyes were not so bleak.
Gimli took the opportunity and ventured, "A bargain I shall make with you, Elf. I will spare you the tedious details of my night to this point if you will share yours with me. I would know what the creature was doing here."
"Trumping my riddle," said the Elf. His drawn face eased a little and his shoulders relaxed.
Gimli sighed. "Waspish replies and enigmatic hints you offer me in place of straightforward answers. Almost it is as futile to try to hold a conversation with you as it once was with Gandalf. Are all Elves and wizards as captivated by their own mystery, or was I simply unfortunate enough to fall in with two of the worst on this damnable quest?"
Legolas laughed. "If you must know, these vast and immortal thoughts of mine are preoccupied by a simple longing for dry clothing and the warmth of a fire, as well as a certain curiosity as to how long a stubborn Dwarf might stand here by my side ere he shivers himself to pieces."
A withering stare from his sodden companion drew another laugh from the Elf and he hastened to add, "I am sorry, Gimli. I know not what Gollum meant by seeking me. I suspect many things, but all is not yet clear in my mind. I am uneasy, for I fear the Enemy has not been idle during our time in Lórien. What I gleaned from Gollum did much to unsettle me and I had intended to return to camp with all haste. We are in peril."
"How wise of you to notice," said Gimli. "Thank goodness for cold water."
Legolas shook his head. "A more immediate peril, Gimli. There is an enemy that shall make itself known ere long, I think, and it will not do for any of us to be caught at unawares when it comes. We must be together."
"I will not be the one to bring this Company to ruin," said Gimli.
"I would not have this Company brought to ruin at all," said Legolas, "though it seems we court defeat for all our good intentions. We might hold the darkness at bay for a time but we cannot hope to withstand it. Our presence shall grow to be a burden upon the Ring-bearer, more so than it shall benefit him, I fear. He knows this. So much do we expect from Frodo Baggins when we can do so little for him."
Gimli looked sharply at the Elf. "You do not suggest that we should abandon him?"
"Nay. Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," said the Elf with a small smile. "That none of us could do, Gimli son of Glóin, though I fear we shall lose him or be lost to him, all of us, verily, even those he holds closest to his heart. It is but a matter of time."
Gimli closed his eyes as if with sudden pain. "Surely not all of us," said the Dwarf. The image had come to him of Frodo and his faithful Sam turned against one another as he had Legolas had been turned. His mind recoiled from the thought. "Let it not be so. Let the Halflings be made of sterner stuff than Elves and Dwarves."
"I could not bear it otherwise, my friend. It is my hope." Legolas placed a hand upon the Dwarf's shoulder. "Enough. We carry on past good measure and you are turning blue."
The Elf guided him to shore and Gimli allowed himself to be led, but his face was still grim. "Naught has changed, Legolas," he protested. "If we draw near Frodo, we are in danger and we bring danger to him in turn until we can rid ourselves of the influence of that cursed bit of gold." Gimli stroked his beard. "Too remote is my wish as of yet to personally reduce the Dark Lord to smoking ash with my axe," he lamented. "I fear I shall have to settle for a less dramatic show of resistance for now." His dark eyes snapped with defiance. "If Frodo is doomed to walk alone, we must do at least what we may to smooth the path before him while we are able."
"So long as we do not smooth his path by slathering it with our own shed blood," said Legolas. He became thoughtful. Then he straightened with resolve. "It seems the Ring's instinct is to divide and conquer. We shall cling more tightly to one another. If our reason cannot to be trusted, than we shall trust one another beyond all reason and listen to its lies no longer! If it becomes too much for us to bear, we shall have Aragorn or the hobbits dash cold water at us until it loses its hold." The Elf's laughing eyes grew solemn, "Do you trust me, Gimli?"
Gimli regarded Legolas. And then he nodded firmly. "Aye, more so than I trust myself these days, Master Elf."
"Good. My life is in your hands and yours is in mine. Thereby might we prove some use to Frodo rather than hinder him."
"An easier thing to put into words than to put to action, I should think," said Gimli.
"Are not most things?" replied Legolas. "But so far we have seen naught but feckless flight and light skirmishes with plodding Orcs. I should welcome the challenge, I think." Legolas's smile was hesitant, but brave and brilliant as starshine when it came.
Gimli snorted. "Light skirmishes. It does not bode well with me to make light of the power of the Ring. Such folly is what led to that," the Dwarf crooked a finger at Legolas's injured face, "and this," he pressed a hand to his own wound. "We may have a better understanding of the danger, but a danger it remains for us. This is probably a most ridiculous plan conjured by two who should benefit from sleep than plotting, but where you will go, I will follow."
Legolas bowed solemnly, and then proffered his hand. Gimli clasped it. "So be it."
"Aye," said Gimli. "Now we had best be getting back ere the next watch awakens. After the trouble I took in wresting the first watch from Boromir, he will have my head if he awakens to find that I have left Frodo standing guard in my stead."
They had gone but a little ways when Legolas gave a small cry and suddenly flew around. Gimli frowned after him and wondered if the Elf intended some daft foray back into the water. Legolas loped back to where he had been sitting and scooped something up from the sand. He returned with a sheepish smile upon his face and Sam's cooking-pot tucked under his arm.
"More is the woe I should bring upon myself," said the Elf, "if I were to leave this behind and earn the wrath of Samwise Gamgee!"
Frodo stared at the flickering flames of the campfire and mused over the shadowy patterns they wove. The slight smoke wafted upwards and mingled with the air, twining and winding higher ere it was snatched and pulled apart by the breeze. It was the Company's wont to let the fire die rather than feed it upon the first watch of the eve except in their travels in climes that were too cold to allow for it. Chill it was here along the banks of the Anduin, but Frodo huddled cozily within the blanket he had cast about his shoulders and he was warm enough. He kept the fire burning because he was waiting, and the dancing flames were better company than the uncertain darkness that lurked beyond.
The fire popped and crackled as it nibbled at some particularly stubborn knot of wood. The noise jolted Frodo from his drowsy thoughts. He roused himself and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then rose from his seat to quietly fetch his flask of water. He crouched near their baggage and drank deeply, slaking his thirst. He sat for a moment pushing his toes into the sand and gazing at the slumbering Fellowship, then drew another deep draught and let the water trickle over his tongue. When he had emptied it, he plunked the bottle on top of the bundles of supplies and shifted to rise.
He had been listening for the sound of footsteps marking the return of the wayward companions for such a long time now that it took him several moments to realize he was hearing just that. He looked up past the red flames of the campfire to see the silhouette of two unmistakable figures approaching out of the darkness and a smile broke over the hobbit's face. He stood and crept around quietly towards them, blinking rapidly to chase away the phantoms of the firelight that blurred his vision.
Gimli strode ahead of the two and he met the hobbit with a swift embrace. The Dwarf stepped back and gave a deep bow.
"At your service, Master Baggins," he growled close to Frodo's ear. He clapped the Halfling upon the back with a strength that nearly bowled Frodo over and moved past him towards the fire. Frodo's smile broadened, though he cringed a little at Dwarf's decidedly wet state.
He turned then to look up at Legolas. Frodo hesitated and wasn't quite sure what to say, but the Elf drew near and knelt before him ere he could make up his mind. This time Legolas reached out and took the hobbit's smaller hands in his own. His matchless eyes were steady and strong and Frodo felt his heart lift at the sight of the conviction within them.
"I ask once more to serve you, Frodo, if you will have me," whispered the Elf.
The hobbit shook his head and said meekly, "U-gerino buiach, Legolas, nedio ha galu le esta meldiren a boren."
Legolas laughed. "You bear the accent of an Elf of Imladris, with a hint of a Halfling of the Shire. 'Tis a delight to hear." He placed Frodo's hands upon his heart. "Onen le cuen, elvellon. Si anira anno le bronwe ufiriel-nin."
Frodo took him and raised him up and led him back to the fire. Legolas was also soaked quite through, Frodo noted. Whatever the Elf and Dwarf had been up to this night, it was doubtlessly a tale worth hearing and Frodo made a promise to himself to ask when an opportunity arose. For now, he was tired and simply thankful they had returned.
Gimli donned drier garments and came to settle upon his bedroll near to Frodo, who was nestled with Sam in their own. Frodo lay quietly with his back to Sam's, resting his head upon his elbow, and he watched the Dwarf. Gimli looked well-pleased with himself; his brown eyes reflected the light of the fire's bright embers as he sat soaking up their warmth. The Dwarf seemed strong again and Frodo felt safe near him. He realized he had missed that most terribly.
Gimli looked across the fire at Aragorn, who breathed softly, curled upon his side. "Our Ranger sleeps soundly tonight," murmured the Dwarf. "I have seen him crack an eye at the skitter of a field mouse showing more than a passing interest in our food stores, yet tonight I believe an army of Orcs could march through and steal his blankets from under him and he would not stir a hair. He has not moved since our return. Should we wake him?"
"Nay, I should say not!" hissed Legolas. He drew near, comfortably clad in clean clothing, looking a bit more like himself. He settled down to sit behind their heads and said, "He is weary. He takes more than his share of responsibility in an effort to prove himself a leader. He shall be a good king, or will be, once he is able to accept praise for aught he has accomplished rather than blame himself when plans go awry, or when those in his charge chance to stumble along the road." The Elf's voice rose a little, as if he meant his words to be heard by someone other than Gimli and Frodo. Frodo cast a swift look at Aragorn, but he had not stirred.
Gimli shook his head. "Stumbled, fell headlong, and landed unflatteringly at the bottom of the ditch, in our case," he muttered, and he winked at Frodo.
The Dwarf's teasing words and the late hour nudged Frodo's tired mind past its limit. He snickered. He stifled the noise in the vaulted stillness, but only snuffed louder. It was all too far removed from the gravity of that awful day and from the certainty of worse days to come. He found himself trying to quell quiet sounds of helpless merriment ere long, o'erwhelmed by his emotions. Gimli regarded him with kind amusement and traded looks with Legolas, and the Dwarf chuckled himself, which did not help. Frodo choked and laughed until his eyes streamed and the stitch in his side made it difficult to draw breath. He felt Sam stir beside him in his dreams in protest. Gimli cleared his throat and Legolas coaxed them both to be silent ere their restlessness got out of hand.
"Hush! Hush, bruilhunaiw, or you shall wake the others!" said the Elf. "Lie back and sleep," he bade them. "I will keep watch."
Gimli shifted uncomfortably at this and his face grew grim. His eyes still reflected the fire's glow, but the shine there seemed not friendly, but eerie and bright.
Frodo caught his breath and lay very still, feeling suddenly very hot. He had to resist the urge to throw off his coverlets, though only a moment ago he had sought their warmth. He hoped the sound of his beating heart was not as loud as it seemed to his own ears.
Legolas seemed to sense the change in Gimli also and he responded immediately. The Elf unfolded his legs and leaned toward the Dwarf. "By your leave only, Gimli," he said. "Would it please you better to keep watch with me until Boromir wakes?"
Gimli blinked slowly and looked up from the fire at the Elf. He shook his head. "Nay. Of course not," he said. The Dwarf closed his eyes and made a swift motion with his hand about his face as if shooing away a fly.
Frodo wondered at this. If aught was to be said about the spell that hung over this barren land, the moths and midges and strident crickets that were the constant companions of those who would sleep under the stars were also scarce. There was nothing in the air but the odd puff of ash from their fire. Frodo turned his eyes back to the Dwarf curiously but Gimli had laid himself down and drawn his thick covers over himself and settled back.
"I will not refuse an offer of sleep when it is freely given," said the Dwarf. "Take the watch. Just be sure to get some rest yourself this night. If I have a surly Elf to deal with come morning, I shall trade you off for Merry and Peregrin and let Boromir suffer your company."
Frodo sensed something more between them than what was said, but when the Elf noticed the hobbit's questioning eyes upon him, he merely nodded reassuringly and motioned for Frodo to lay back.
Ere Frodo allowed his eyes to close, he saw Legolas glance over at Aragorn. The Ranger moved ever so slightly beneath his blankets. The Elf narrowed his eyes knowingly and smiled. Legolas leaned back with a soft song on his lips. He lulled his companions into deep dreams as he watched over them.
Legolas's gaze strayed often to the skies, however, and he was disquieted to feel the air change as the night wore on.
The wind ceased, and then it began to blow from the East.
Translations (Loosely):
U-gerino buiach, Legolas, nedio ha galu le esta meldiren a boren.(I would not have you serve me, Legolas, but would count it a blessing to call you a friend and ally.)
Onen le cuen, elvellon. Si anira anno le bronwe ufiriel-nin: (I gave to you my bow, elf-friend. I would give to you now my undying faith.)
bruilhunaiw: (jaybirds.)
