Chapter 13: Quite the Same

Sam was dreaming he was asleep.

It was a queer sensation to say the least, because he was aware he was asleep and dreaming, but he could do naught to rouse himself. He was not where he had been when he first closed his eyes, this much he knew. He was lying upon cold stone - just like that, with no blanket under him or pillow beneath his head. A moment of panic took him as a recollection he had thought long forgotten came flooding back, of fog upon the Barrow-downs where he had lain beneath the earth and of the feel of icy-cold steel resting across his neck.

But no, he wasn't there neither. There was vague sunlight and the feeling of space around him. He found he could shift his eyes if he tried, and so he looked about him. The light grew stronger or his sight became accustomed to the dimness of the place for he could see that he was not alone. There was someone else beside him, someone with a stark face and eyes that were closed, someone who appeared to be asleep, but upon closer reflection, did not look to be breathing.

His master. Sam tried to call out to him but could not form the words, could not make his tongue work or his hand reach out to touch Frodo. He could only lie there and look at him, pale and unmoving beside him.

A small, nagging voice in his head told him he was being silly, dwelling on a nightmare. It told him to wake up, but Sam was transfixed by the vividness of his dream and he could not tear his eyes from Frodo's ashen face. The sight did not horrify him as he thought it should have. He was more curious than anything, more expectant than afraid. The dream resembled the vision he had been shown in the Elf-Queen's Mirror. He half-hoped it might offer him more than the Lady's pictures had done, and maybe give him answers rather than more questions. But when he tried to concentrate the nagging voice (which sounded inexplicably more and more like the Gaffer) became louder and prompted him once again to hang off being such a ninny and just wake up. It insisted that something needed his attention in the world outside and that he would do well to take leave of his dream and find out quick what it was.

Sam woke. He cracked open an eye and squinted through the gap in his blankets at the Sun peeping churlishly back down at him. He squinched his eye closed again as beams of playful sunshine darted across his delicate vision and glittering motes of light burrowed through the pleasant, sleepy haze that muffled his senses. He yawned to stall for time ere he got himself up and he thought he tasted the thick, woody smell of campfire smoke hanging in the air.

It struck him suddenly that the Sun was looking down upon him from way up, up higher in the sky than she should have done, seeing as Sam was still neatly tucked away beneath his covers and not yet floating off down the River in a confounded canoe. It was too warm beneath the blanket and stifling, the chill of the morning long since gone. The last trailing remnants of his lethargy fled from his mind at the realization. His eyes popped wide open and he lifted his head to look around.

A small fire was indeed crackling merrily close by and someone had set up a kettle of water and a lovely steaming platter of breakfast upon the warm rocks. Sam shifted anxiously and saw that Frodo was sleeping peacefully next to him with one arm cast over his head to keep the light from his face. Sam grunted and shifted and propped himself on one arm.

His other companions were all up and about. Sam squinted around, noting with relief that they were all present. Merry and Pippin were wrangling over the fire and the food while the rest milled nearby, busying themselves with lackadaisical mid-morning tasks. Naught was out of place or amiss as far as Sam could see, other than the fact that the Fellowship seemed to be in no particular hurry to be leaving.

"How would you like your toast, Peregrin? Stuffed up your nose or crumbled down the back of your neck?" Merry's face was turned away from Sam, but his voice sounded scratchy and distinctly out of sorts.

"It isn't as bad as all that," replied Pippin. He was perched on a log and artfully arranging a stack of toasted bread with studious concentration. "Scrape away the burnt part.

"It's all burnt part."

"Give it to me then, and I'll eat it."

"Very selfless of you, except that you've already eaten enough breakfast to feed a sizable starving village. There shan't be any left for Frodo or Sam, and I'll leave it to you to tell them why. Given the state of the toast and this lumpy substance you've passed off as porridge, they may thank you for it."

"The others didn't complain. It isn't the fault of my cooking, cousin mine, but your campfire." Pippin paused in his efforts to take a bite of toast and lick his fingers. "I know now why we prefer to have Gimli or Sam build one. Aren't you supposed to coax the heat forth and not the smoke?"

"My fire is a grand fire. And the others didn't complain about breakfast for fear of wasting the morning arguing about it with you." Merry broke off in a fit of coughing as a twist of wind swept the smoke from his smouldering fire directly into his face. This amused Pippin, who laughed and brandished a toasting fork to ward him off.

"Smoke follows beauty," gasped Merry.

Pippin cast about. "Splendid!" He flapped his hand without enthusiasm in the direction of the riverbank. "But Legolas is off that way, and he's quite the only one of the lot of us who might qualify. You are certainly no prize in the mornings. Or any other time of the day, come to think of it." Pippin looked up and saw that Sam was awake and listening to their conversation. "Hullo, Sam! Good morning. Care for a sup and a bite?" He waved a wedge of bread in the air cheerfully.

Sam crawled from his blankets, careful not to disturb his master, and nodded a good morning back to the youngest hobbit. "What's this, then?" he asked as he padded towards the fire. "Why are we still here?"

Merry turned to him with a wry face. He wiped his streaming eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head to clear it. "Strider decided we would be better for starting off late today," he said hoarsely. "I can't say I'm happy about it."

Pippin had been correct; Merry certainly was no prize this morning. Normally Meriadoc was an early-riser, but he had apparently also taken the opportunity to sleep in and he looked it. His hair was a nut-brown explosion of curls and he was clad in the rumpled light clothes he had worn to bed. His eyes were still bleary with unshed sleep and were now bloodshot to boot. Pippin also was dressed for lounging indolently about a breakfast fire, but not for journeying.

Sam's brow wrinkled in thought. The usual hobbit custom of lingering over breakfast and then leisurely tucking into elevenses had not been a practical matter of course during the Fellowship's tramping, and more often it came to pass that they missed meals than they were allowed to sit still and enjoy them. Aragorn pressed them on gently most days, but press them on he did; on through proper mealtimes and decent hours of sleep with no regard at all to proper digestion and their healthy constitutions. It was to the credit of his good-natured hobbit companions that they let Aragorn have his way - Pippin had tried several times at the onset of their journey to set him aright upon certain matters of civility. He finally deemed it useless to try and alter the set and somewhat unrefined habits of a ranger.

But it seemed that Aragorn had relented and allowed for a late start this morning, and Sam wondered why. The camp hadn't been disturbed and naught they had brought ashore yesterday had yet been stowed back in the boats, nor their gear readied for departure.

Puzzled a little by the change in their routine, Sam mused upon it as he began to eat the bowl of porridge Pippin gave to him. He did not think to examine the contents first - which was the wisest thing for it, really. He stood as he ate it (lumps and all) and walked about the fire, sending glances every once in a while down towards the shoreline where the rest of the Company was gathered.

Aragorn was kneeling near the water's edge and seemed to be tracing something in the wet sand with his finger as he spoke in earnest with Legolas. Too far they were for Sam to hear anything they said, and his ears were filled with the running conversation about toast and smoke that had started up again behind him. Aragorn looked at ease, however, and was talking freely with the Elf as if naught was out of the ordinary, even going so far as to throw his head back and laugh at something Legolas had said to him. The Elf was standing idly next to the Ranger, motioning gracefully at the markings he was making, guiding Aragorn's hand with his words.

Gimli and Boromir tarried near the boats and were stooped next to one of the light vessels. The Man of Gondor was running a hand over the hull as if seeking a crack or flaw in the structure as Gimli looked on over his shoulder and shook his bearded head with disapproval.

Sam actually stopped eating for a moment to wonder what that was about. He fretted for a bit ere he decided he would probably be happier not knowing. The Elves had promised the grey vessels would not sink and that was good enough for him. His ignorance was not merely bliss in this instance, but a necessity if any of them wished to get Samwise Gamgee back into a boat ever again. He prudently shifted his gaze back to Aragorn and Legolas and finished his breakfast.

The Ranger had risen and was dusting the sand from his hands. He scraped his foot over his markings and motioned briefly and said something to Legolas to which the Elf nodded his assent. Aragorn then took his leave of him and strode back towards the campfire. He seemed preoccupied, but he flashed his white teeth in greeting when he saw Sam.

"Good morning, Sam," said Aragorn. "I had begun to wonder if your aversion to water-travel had finally driven you to protest and sleep the day through." The Ranger circled the fire and then turned his head away when the smoke conspired with a mischievous breeze and wafted up into his face.

Pippin gave Merry a wide grin and opened his mouth to remark, but Merry frowned at him and cleared his throat loudly.

Aragorn stepped out of the smoke's path, dismissed it with a sniff, and he bent to reach for the kettle of water. "Keep the fire burning hot as I have shown you, Master Brandybuck," he instructed. "An overabundance of smoke is a sign that fuel is being wasted. An invitation it is for any who might be lurking nearby to come pay a call on you." Drawing forth a proper cup from his pack and a pinch of leaves from a small pouch he kept close, he set about brewing himself a cup of tea and threw himself back to settle amongst the hobbits.

"Begging your pardon, Strider, but why haven't we set off?" asked Sam. "The morning slips away and here we sit, watchin' it go by."

"There is nothing to be concerned about, Sam," said Aragorn. "We shall start out late and travel into the evening, I think. We have had no need for untoward caution so far, but we draw near lands where it is best to lie low again. I think it is best that we break from our regular habits for a little while. It is my desire to journey through the night and to take our rest during the daytime from here on, if we can manage it."

Sam looked at him uneasily. The stretch of River behind them had felt to him hostile enough, though no danger had made itself known; he did not like the notion of more troublesome parts waiting for them ahead. Almost he might have guessed that Aragorn was keeping something back. "How much longer until we take to the land again, Strider?" he asked.

"Less than a week, if all goes well. I daresay I shall then hear of your tired feet and weary legs and be regaled by wistful recollections of our carefree days upon the River." Aragorn's grey eyes were touched with amusement.

"Aye, and my mother was a Bree-lander," muttered Sam around a mouthful of blackened toast.

Aragorn chuckled but ere he could say more, he was interrupted by the crunch of gravel and the voices of Legolas and Gimli as they returned from the water's edge. Sam lifted his head. He leaned to one side to see around Aragorn and get a better look at the Elf and Dwarf.

"It is quite sound," Legolas was saying to Gimli. "There is no cause for worry." The Elf was clad in his usual green and brown, his dusky Lórien cloak folded neatly over one arm, clean and dry. His voice was gentle and light and he bore neither his weapons nor his quiver upon his back. His hair was loose and hung behind his ears and he walked at Gimli's side with casual, swinging strides. He toyed with a small bit of buttery driftwood he had scooped from the sand, tossing it from hand to hand, seeming at ease. Legolas should have looked quite himself once more, except for the gash across his cheekbone and the purpled bruise along his jaw. The wound had been cleansed but still showed plain upon his smooth features. Sam could see nothing else.

"You hardly looked at it," grumbled Gimli. "How can you be so certain?"

Sam turned his attention to Gimli and his eyes swept over the Dwarf with the same scrutiny he gave Legolas, but Gimli seemed none the worse for wear. He stalked placidly alongside the Elf, making some effort to keep up as he sank into the sand with every stumping step he took. Gimli was clad in merely his shirtsleeves and trousers once more this morn and not his customary coat of steel rings. Nor did Gimli wear his helm, though it should have seemed out of place without his other armor anyhow. The Dwarf looked different to Sam, standing there in the daylight without the burden of his steel vestments, and for some reason he could not put his finger on, the sight made Sam feel uncomfortable.

"Staring at nothing will hardly turn it to something, Master Dwarf," Legolas replied.

"I tell you it has begun to warp. If that is not a weak spot, I shall eat my boots," said Gimli.

"I told you breakfast left much to be desired," said Merry to Pippin.

"A trick of the shadows or the grain of the wood, Gimli, nothing more. I tell you boats of the Galadhrim do not wear and will not sink unless we were to set about chopping holes into them," said Legolas.

"Was that an accusing look, Master Elf?" said Gimli. "I do not go about looking for something to dig my axe into, if that is what you are thinking, most especially my own boat just to prove a point!"

"I said nothing of the sort," Legolas protested.

"Trust not a horse's heel, nor a dog's tooth, nor the guileless look that belongs to a certain Elf when he is anything but innocent," snorted Gimli.

Legolas gave a laugh and replied, but their words fell upon the deaf ears of Samwise from there. The hobbit watched the Elf and Dwarf warily as they drew nigh. He listened with disbelief to their worthless banter. His stomach, which had proved indomitable to Pippin's porridge, turned over suddenly and threatened to be upset.

And then he became angry. He stared at the Elf and Dwarf and he fought his indignation. He could have shouted at them. Had they gone out of their heads or had he? For all the grief they had caused his master! and now they stood quarrelling with one another as if such a thing had not nearly led them to disaster. He had not dreamed the awfulness of last night; there was the mark of it upon Legolas's face! And yet he and Gimli were speaking as if nothing had happened between them. Sam had the distinct feeling that he had missed out on something, as usual. He wound himself up tight and glared with outrage at the Elf and Dwarf as they carried on.

Gimli was in the midst of expounding upon Elven workmanship when he caught the look of burning offense in Sam's brown eyes. He regarded the hobbit with surprise at first, and then understanding dawned upon his face and he sobered. He cut short his words to Legolas and reached up to lay a restraining hand upon the Elf's arm. Legolas fell quiet.

The Dwarf considered Sam gravely and then he clumped forward and stood before the bristling hobbit. "Master Samwise," Gimli addressed him respectfully with a bow. "As it seems I cannot depend upon an unbiased opinion from my companion here as to the stability of our finely crafted boats yonder, would you do me the favour of coming with me to give judgment yourself? I should like to speak with you."

Sam's feelings couldn't have possibly been any easier to read upon his open face; he did not know to hide them. He saw the others look at him from the corner of his eye and he flushed and stared sullenly down to the ground. Sam's resourcefulness failed him and he could think of no way to escape; he nodded in agreement and followed after the Dwarf.

Legolas stepped aside for Gimli and Sam and he watched the two of them go off down to the boats. He looked after them anxiously, and then came to sit next to Aragorn by the fire. His eyes were sad.

Aragorn glanced at him. "Gimli will make it right with him, Legolas." The Ranger sipped at his tea and hissed as the liquid stung his tongue. He blew across the lip of his cup to cool it, then took another sip and deemed it moderate enough to drink. He crossed his legs and sat back comfortably. "I suppose it would have been wise to wake him when you and Gimli returned last night, but my concern was for Frodo and I am afraid I did much overlook Sam," he admitted.

Legolas nodded. "So swiftly did I wish to leave the evil memory of it behind that I gave it no thought. I think it shall take much from Gimli and me to regain Sam's trust. I told him that I would have to cure him someday of his shyness of Elves. I am afraid I caused much more damage than that." He flicked the piece of driftwood he held in his hand into the flames. "And yet I am reassured by his anger, Aragorn. Sam's loyalty to Frodo is absolute, as it must be."

Aragorn shook his head firmly with disapproval. "We are a Fellowship yet and the trust between us -between all of us - cannot be so lightly abandoned. Sam shall have to make allowance and forgive."

Legolas said naught; he looked up suddenly and his bright eyes fixed upon Merry and Pippin, who had both ceased to talk. They now wore long faces and were politely pretending not to listen to the conversation.

"And what of you, my young friends?" said Legolas. "I know it is your way to lift your worries with light words, but there are times when laughter cannot heal the spirit. I would hear your thoughts and ease your minds, if I am able."

Merry exchanged looks with Pippin, then slowly nodded; he lifted his head and regarded Legolas with a seriousness that spoke of the deliberation he had indeed given it.

"Well, Legolas," Merry began. "I couldn't say whether it was merely wishful thinking upon my part," he explained, "but it seemed to me that you and Gimli had reached some sort of understanding. You were speaking to each other this morning, much more like yourselves." He looked a bit guilty. "I didn't think it right to pry, though I must admit to making a few secret plans of my own to kick you both into the River if you began to behave strangely."

Legolas smiled. "I had thought to ask the same from you as a favour."

Merry nodded. "Do you believe you can go on without risking Frodo's safety, Legolas?"

The smile faded from the Elf's face and he lifted his chin. "I do think so, yes."

"Can you promise it, Legolas?" asked Pippin.

"Such a promise I cannot give to you, Peregrin Took," Legolas told the young hobbit. "A warrior who boasts of victory ere the battle has been fought is a braggart or a fool. We are better armed now, Gimli and I, and wiser to the danger, as I hope you are. Come what may, we have sworn to hold to one another and protect the Ring-bearer to the last of our strength. I hope this does satisfy, for it is all I can offer with any certainty."

"It does," said a voice.

They turned to see Frodo standing there, stretching his arms and blinking his eyes. "I daresay the Ring-bearer might be grateful for less valiant companions with quieter voices this morning, however," he laughed. He rubbed a face that was cheery if somewhat tired. "Why did no one wake me?" he demanded.

Pippin rose to give him a seat by the fire. "We tried, my dear fellow, but you sleep like a log and snore like a bear."

Frodo scowled. "I'll remember that, Pippin, the next time I wake before you do." He reached to help himself to the food, and then asked, "Where is Sam?"

"Down by the water with Gimli looking for imaginary holes in the boats," said Merry.

"That sounds like an especially ridiculous thing to be doing," said Frodo. He poked at the grey porridgy substance in the pot before him and watched with horror as it engulfed the end of his spoon and tried to suck it from his hand.

"I will leave that for you to tell Gimli," said Legolas. "It is his particular gripe this morning."

Frodo smiled; he met the Elf's eyes uncertainly and then looked away again. The Company fell silent.

Merry cocked his head as if judging whether or not to speak again, but the Brandybuck in him told him he might as well be in for a pint as an ounce.

"Very well," he cleared his throat, "I can see that today is going to pass from quite awkward to worse, and as entertaining as it is to watch you shy away from each other, I don't think we shall get very far that way. I can't imagine another few days such as this." Merry looked at the Elf. "Can you still feel it, Legolas?" he asked. "Is it hard to be near Frodo?"

With a gracious nod to Frodo, Legolas said, "It is hard to be near the Ring, not the Ring-bearer. But not so hard as it was. I do not feel it now and that worries me."

Aragorn lifted his head, suddenly very attentive. "How so, Legolas?"

The Elf paused, then said, "I expressed my fears to you earlier, Aragorn. Gimli and I were prepared for another assault. As foolish as it may seem, I worry now that it has proved so far to be not the challenge for us that we expected. Perhaps it is too soon to judge, but Gimli confided in me that he feels freer of its influence as well. I know not what to make of this."

Aragorn tapped his finger upon the cup in his hand pensively, the silver ring he wore clinking against it. "I deem it too soon to judge, Legolas, aye," he said finally. "It seems likely to me that the Ring is sporting with us, tempting us to lower our guard, but we shall give it time and see." He rose and offered the dregs of his tea to the fire and it accepted them with a satisfied sizzle.

"Exhausting is what this all is," declared Pippin with a doleful sigh. "It is one thing to be chased by Orcs and spied upon by birds and beasts everywhere we go, but it is quite another thing to wonder if the thoughts in our head are our own. It gives me the shivers."

"You shan't need to worry, Peregrin," said Merry. "Anything creeping into your mind would promptly get lost in the tangle."

"Thank you!" said Pippin.

A booming shout echoed up from the water's edge. "Hi! Legolas! Come!"

The Elf stirred himself from his thoughts and lifted his head. "The stubbornness of a hobbit has proven a match, perhaps, for the stubbornness of a Dwarf?" he mused. He looked at the others, his green eyes grown merrier. "By your leave, I shall go and see if Gimli is in need of assistance." Legolas leapt up and made for the River.

Aragorn watched him go. Frodo wiped the crumbs from his shirtfront and stood; he approached the Ranger apprehensively.

"What of it, Aragorn?" asked Frodo. "Could they have overcome it?"

Aragorn did not answer for a long moment. Then he shook his head and looked down at the hobbit. "I do not think so, Frodo. Gimli and Legolas have found strength and I praise their effort, but I think if they are feeling a respite from the Ring's influence it is because it has chosen to withdraw."

"For what reason?" wondered Frodo, and his hand strayed to the chain about his neck. His lip curled with revulsion as if he held a wild beast by a tether, unable to tame it or loose it and dreading lest it should tear free.

"I should simply be guessing at its purpose, Frodo, and I will not do such a thing. I would be casting suspicion and doubt with no certainty and weakening the bonds of trust we still must hold to while we travel together. Finish your breakfast and rest while you can," he bade him. "Your companions are with you, and they are doing their utmost to remain so. We will take each day as it comes. We leave in a few hours."


Gimli matched Sam's listless pace as they made their solitary way down the shore. Neither said a word, nor did they look at one another as they walked, and Sam was grateful for that. He was very aware right then of Gimli's imposing brawn and brusqueness beside him. In his mind he could still see the Dwarf's enraged face and the murderous glint in his eye from last night. Though the Dwarf walked not tall, he was a formidable presence of bulk and strength to be near and not the sort of company just then to set a nervous hobbit at ease. Sam shuffled a bit sideways as he walked to put some space between them and tried his best to make it look unintentional. Of course, Gimli noticed.

Sam reached the water-line ahead of the Dwarf by a few paces and he eyed the boats with a distasteful wrinkle of his nose. Gimli strode forward and sat against the side of the vessel that had shuttled Legolas and himself this far down the Anduin. He did not look at it, however, but at Sam. He motioned for the hobbit to draw nearer. Sam came to lean next to him and he stared down at his feet.

"Finely fit the two of us are to be appraising the soundness of a boat, Master Samwise," said Gimli. "I could not have even recognized prow from stern ere we set out from Lórien."

Sam said nothing.

Gimli said, "Still I find I must stop and consider the matter each time we shove the thing off into the water."

Sam merely nodded. He was not listening. He was doing his best to bravely blink back the tears from his eyes and his jaw was set tight with anger.

Gimli looked at him kindly. "Ah, Samwise," he sighed. "We have much disappointed you, the Elf and I, have we not? An explanation we should have given to you, and an apology, but I fear the feelings of one Halfling became lost in the storm of our mixed emotions last night. You have my undivided attention now and if I might make amends, I mean to do it."

"'Tis nothing, Gimli, sir," murmured Sam. "I wouldn't have you trouble yourself over it."

"I thought you a wiser hobbit than that, Samwise Gamgee. You have something to say. Speak!"

Sam mustered his courage and met the Dwarf's eyes. Gimli nodded encouragingly, and Sam let his frustration spill out from him all at once.

"I don't understand," he fumbled angrily. "I don't know if I should be worried when you and Legolas carry on like you do. You all seem so strange. And Frodo is changing. He doesn't sleep proper and, beggin' your pardon, none of you seem to be helping him. He can't manage on his own and I am afraid that Aragorn will leave Frodo and me when we need him most. I don't understand any of it at all, and I feel as if I should do something about it when I can't! I can't do anythin' about any of it." Sam's chest was heaving with emotion. He glanced at the Dwarf and his face turned red; he slunk against the boat to sit dejected in the sand, a picture of complete despair.

Gimli remained silent and listened patiently to the hobbit's outburst. When he was certain that Sam's rage had run its immediate course, he said to him, "Well, Master Samwise, you may take comfort in knowing that you are not alone in your frustration. You are right. There is very little you can do. I know not whether that might ease your heart or make it worse, but it is not up to you to fix any of it. It isn't your fault." The Dwarf gave a heavy sigh. "Whether I could make you believe such a thing or not, I can tell you that it is a greater trial to be a part of the cause of all this confusion than it is for you to stand by and watch it."

"It's hard," mumbled Sam.

"Have pity for your beleaguered companions, Samwise," said Gimli. "We find ourselves at war when we could not have expected it, and we are doing the best we can to help Frodo. Do not give up on us yet." He slapped his hand down absently upon the wood of the boat beneath him, and then looked at it and said, "Aye, flimsy as a child's birch-bark canoe and certainly a hazard. Have you still the rope that the Galadhrim gave to you ere we departed from that fair land, Sam?"

"I do," said Sam despondently.

"You may need it ere we find our next campsite, to fish Legolas and myself out of the River. Keep it handy, lad."

Sam snuffled and gave a slight smile in spite of his misery. "I daresay it might prove sturdy enough, if we should have to test it," he said in a small voice. "I am no judge of boats, but I know a thing or two about rope."

"Indeed?" said Gimli with all seriousness. He delved as Dwarves do so well. "An interest you have in the craft?"

"Aye," said Sam. Gimli watched with satisfaction as a spark of enthusiasm ignited the hobbit's modest spirit. Sam drew up a deep breath. "It is in my family, you might say. My uncle Andfast is a roper and knows a thousand ways to weave it and craft it, and what raw stuff makes the sturdiest rope and which makes the smoothest. I don't know half of what he knows, but I picked up a lot growing up and watching him work."

"I assume this would be the Uncle Andy I recall hearing you mention ere I was set upon and blindfolded by that band of overzealous Elves in Lórien." Gimli glowered at the memory.

"The same!" Sam told him. "Andy would have loved to have seen that trick the Elves did gettin' us over that stream. He used to pull a few stunts like that himself, he did. Nearly killed himself on an occasion or two." Sam puffed himself up with pride as if it were his own exploits he did relate.

"I should think you may have surpassed your uncle's foolhardiness, Samwise, in keeping the company you have," said Gimli. "Someday the two of you shall sit by a fire and swap stories and I should be very surprised if you do not come out on top."

"Maybe," laughed Sam. "It would be close. I can remember one time a long while before I had reached my tweens when Andfast and his son Ansy took the dare for money from my eldest brother Hamson to scale the tallest oak tree that stands upon the Stock Brook crossing in the South Farthing." Sam sat up straighter as he warmed to the telling of it. "They rigged a right proper net of ropes and pulleys, see, that worked on the idea of weights and balances. A dangerous business it was, since the whole thing counted on both Andy and his son to be alert. If one of them was too slow or let slip just a little bit as they tossed the ropes to each other, one would have fallen and taken them both down. My mum boxed my ears right then and there as we watched, on the off chance that I should ever get it into my head to try somethin' like that."

"But they won the wager?" asked Gimli.

"Aye, they did! Easy as that. Hamson took a year to pay up, mind you, but he did. It was all anybody talked about for a long time after. Andy still tells the tale when he's been in his cups down at the Green Dragon."

Gimli groaned. "A cruel thing it is to bring to mind a cold mug of ale, Samwise Gamgee, when no ale is at hand nor shall be for a very long time," he admonished.

Sam nodded in mournful agreement. "I'm rather dry with talkin' myself." He seemed flustered now at having gone on like that. The Halfling's face was once again genial and lighter, however, if not altogether very happy. Gimli looked at him kindly and placed a broad hand upon his shoulder.

"I throw the rope, Sam, and Legolas tosses it back for me," the Dwarf told him.

Sam's expression was blank.

"You said that you did not understand. I am giving you an answer," said Gimli. "You wondered whether you should come between the Elf and me in order to save us both from ourselves. I thank you for your concern and your courage. After witnessing our folly last night, I should expect you are wary of our behaviour, but I would ask you to do nothing of the sort lest we are at the verge of tearing out each other's throats again. It would seem that the difference of our races is what the Ring deems our weakness, Samwise. I know not if it is the wisest course for us but as we cannot avoid one another, Legolas and I have decided to take it up as a challenge. The arguments and wrangling may seem a risk, but they are a necessary risk if we are to get anywhere upon this quest. If we embrace our strife, flout it, treat it lightly, we defy the cursed whispers we both hear that would turn our thoughts against one another. It is our way of reaching out and letting the other know that we pay no heed to the Ring's lies. I throw the rope and Legolas tosses it back." The Dwarf looked at the hobbit, his dark eyes searching. "Can you understand, Sam? That is the game. If one of us should fail, we both shall. Perhaps we will take our friends with us. I do not intend to let us come to grief like that."

Sam thought long and hard about it, but Gimli could see the determination and acceptance winning out upon the Halfling's face. At last Sam nodded his head. "Nor would I see it happen. I understand well enough."

"Good lad!" Gimli slapped him on the back. "I would not have liked to suffer scathing looks of an offended hobbit all these long days abroad. It is an effort enough to keep up with our Elf and his changeable moods." Gimli glanced anxiously back towards the camp. "He is no doubt stewing himself into depression without me as we speak. Perhaps we should summon his presence and see what he makes of your Uncle Andy's tree-climbing abilities. I should think that might tweak an Elf's interest just a bit."

Gimli shouted out Legolas's name loudly enough to make Sam's ears ring. There came no reply. The Dwarf stood, then offered his hand to Sam and hefted him easily back onto his feet. "Come, Samwise. We will meet him halfway. He will consider it an excuse to become testy if we make him walk all the way down here for naught."

Sam followed. He felt better. Better than he had, in any case. He trotted along in Gimli's footsteps, thinking about all that had been said. Ere he had taken more than a half dozen paces, however, he halted and narrowed his eyes at the Dwarf.

"Gimli? There really is nothing wrong with the boats now... is there?" he demanded.

The Dwarf turned to look at him with surprise and his deep laughter filled the air.

Legolas walked toward the water, but ere he had gone as far as that, he looked up to see Boromir coming toward him from upriver. Legolas halted and waited for him.

Boromir's face was red from the cold water and his hair still dripping, evidence of his morning ablutions. He gave a bold laugh. "You might want to remind Gimli that we strive for stealth upon this little adventure. That voice of his could shake down a mountain."

Legolas smiled. "He is a Dwarf and I fear that could be as close to a whisper as we can expect from him."

"For such a secretive folk, they are not soft-spoken," agreed Boromir. "I am going to take my ease by the fire. Tell him to keep his whispers to a roar." He strode past and clapped a friendly hand upon the Elf's shoulder.

Legolas stiffened with sudden discomfort. He turned to look at his companion, a dark question forming in his mind. With a slight movement he caught the Man and brought his attention back to him. "Boromir?"

"Aye?" Boromir saw the worry the Elf's eyes and responded in like. "What is it, Legolas?"

"I would ask you something ere you take your leave of me," said Legolas carefully. "Has it become worse for you?"

Boromir blinked. "Worse? I know not what you speak of."

"I think that you do, son of Denethor. I would you might be straightforward, for I am not yet so comfortable discussing it myself."

A deprecating smile touched Boromir's lips and he stood ill-at-ease as if considering how to answer. "Very well," he said shortly. "Nay, Legolas, it has not grown worse. Have I given any of you reason to think so?"

"You have not, Boromir, and I mean no offense," Legolas demurred. He held his hands palms upraised and gave a slight bow. "Please, take none. I am troubled, Boromir, and do but seek to resolve matters that are yet unclear to my mind. Have care, for I fear we have only tasted the bitter edge of its corruption. It is testing our defenses and I would not see any of us try to face it alone."

They heard footsteps. Boromir looked past the Elf and nodded tersely at Gimli and Sam who were approaching them cautiously, listening uneasily to the conversation they had intruded upon and could not now tactfully avoid.

Boromir rubbed his nose. He cast his eyes to the ground and back to the Elf. "Perhaps I am beneath its notice and not such prey as it should take much interest in, I cannot say. I know you mean well, Legolas, but care for yourself. You need not be concerned for me." He cast a surreptitious glance at Gimli and did not look to Sam. He bowed his head at Legolas and then turned and walked away.

Legolas stiffened. He watched after the Man with dismay but ere he could speak or move to follow, Gimli came to his side and caught his arm. The Elf swallowed the urge to pull irritably away from the Dwarf's touch.

"Leave it at that," said Gimli beneath his breath.

"He feels it," Legolas protested. "I sense it when I am near him."

"Is that not to be expected?" asked Gimli. "I think Boromir has felt it since Rivendell. Perhaps only now do we recognize it in him. There is nothing for it, Legolas. We fight our battle against it our way. Allow Boromir to wage his own as he will."

"Even if his way is denial?" The Elf stared ahead with steady eyes.

Gimli frowned. "What troubles you?"

"I fear, Gimli, that it has withdrawn from us to seek a more susceptible mind."

"You believe Boromir now bears the brunt of it?"

"I do."

"He will not thank you for suggesting he is easier prey," said Gimli. "It is for him to deny the Ring. If he does not wish to discuss it with you, naught you say will draw him out to you peacefully."

"How can you know this?"

"My people have had more practice at covetousness and denial," said Gimli impatiently. "Take my word upon it and let it go for now."

"His desire, his weakness lies closer to the heart of this quest than does our weakness, Gimli," Legolas said to him in a low voice, "you know that. If we were to slay one another, few would suffer from our loss. It is not the same."

"I said not that we should ignore it, Elf, nor turn a blind eye. But no man likes to have his honour or ability questioned, particularly when he has doubts about it himself."

The Elf's brow furrowed and it seemed as if he might argue, but he gave in at last. "It is his battle," he echoed uncertainly.

"Aye," said Gimli. "We must fight ours. Allow him to fight his."

Boromir had rejoined their companions by the fire. Legolas watched him from afar with a mixture of trepidation and sadness in his eyes. "It is by our own folly that the Enemy will defeat us..." the Elf intoned.

Gimli looked at him hard, a slight hint of worry showing upon his face. "I should thank you not to surrender our quest ere we have had the chance to see it through," he said gruffly. "If you can find naught but doom and defeat to speak of this morning, Sam and I will kick those long legs of yours out from under you and leave you behind to fret by yourself."

Legolas did not seem to hear him. He hesitated, still watching Boromir. And then he murmured, "Gimli... do not let me fall."

Sam snapped his head 'round and looked up at Legolas as if he half-expected the Elf to collapse on the spot. Never had he heard Legolas plead for anything before, especially from Gimli. He wondered if Legolas had suffered a more grievous hurt last night than it seemed, but the same pain was upon Gimli's face as well and at last Sam recognized the precariousness of the situation and the real cause for the strain he could hear in the Elf's voice. Sam felt a stab of pity as he regarded his two disparate companions. And for the first time he wondered why the hobbits were spared from the Ring's influence. Perhaps it was as Boromir had said, and they were too insignificant to bother with as well.

Gimli stood quietly for several moments ere he gave a heartfelt sigh and shook his head. He drew himself up. With pronounced bluffness in his deep voice he said, "The utter presumptuousness! Do not let you fall? You mock my height with your words and your very presence, practically traipsing upon your tip-toes whither you tread, and now you would take me for a walking stick to prop yourself on your feet? Do I look like your crutch, Master Elf?" he demanded.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. He blinked and seemed to return to himself. He relaxed as Gimli's words took hold and his lips curved into a smile. He cast a look of sly merriment at Sam who was anxiously shifting his gaze between the Elf and the Dwarf.

Legolas looked down at Gimli. "Nay, you are clearly more suited to serve as a doorstop."

"A DOORSTOP?" roared Gimli. He straightened indignantly and his nostrils flared. Then he looked at Sam's cringing face and he winked. "Better," he said. "A poor attempt, but better. Elves are dreadfully dull, Master Samwise, but our friend here is improving. I have hope for him."

Sam let out a rush of air and found his voice. "Lor' bless you, Gimli, sir, Legolas... I know you don't mean it now and you're only whistling down the wind, but my heart nearly stops when you do that. Please don't."

Gimli chuckled. "I have unruffled a few of Sam's feathers and I think he might forgive us both if we are careful, Legolas." The Dwarf looked up to see the Elf still gazing worriedly towards the camp.

"Did you sleep last night?" asked Gimli.

Legolas shook his head negligibly.

"Why not?" growled the Dwarf.

"I felt better keeping watch. And I did not like to leave my mind unguarded," the Elf admitted.

"A restive, exhausted mind seems the more susceptible, my friend. If Aragorn ever manages to prod the others from their idle backsides today, will you take your turn for some sleep within the boat? I think I might be able to manage a bit of the navigation on my own. That is, if the accursed vessel does not split apart in mid-current," he added sourly.

"I will," Legolas agreed, "- lest Sam thinks he might succumb to boredom severe enough to drive him to strike up another conversation with me again."

"I don't know which of you is worse," said Sam.

Legolas smiled at him. "I am sorry, Samwise," he said softly.

By his tone, Sam knew the tall Elf spoke not of his jesting but of something much more. He did not look up at Legolas. He merely nodded.

"Come, Sam," interrupted Gimli with a voice that rolled like close thunder in the hobbit's ears. "Let us return ere Frodo thinks we have done away with you. Spirited away by a fey Wood-Elf and wild Dwarf! 'Tis a fate that would quell the courage of young hobbit children and cause your elders to tremble in their sleep in all four corners of the Shire. What say you, Legolas? Heroes we are not. Think you perhaps infamy could be within our reach?"

The Elf laughed at Gimli's ludicrous but effective attempts to distract and he began to walk back toward the fire. "I fear you are far too substantial a Dwarf to spirit anyone away, friend Gimli," he called. "Frighten them away, perhaps! You are infamous already to those who have made your acquaintance."

Gimli stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I shall take that as a compliment," he said. He bared his teeth at Sam and propelled him up the shore with a friendly shove.