Chance Encounter
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Balian and the rest of them, but I don't. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them.
Chapter 26: A Score to Settle
Balian watched as Legolas and Gimli debated about the number of orcs that they had killed. They couldn't seem to decide whether it was a draw or whether Legolas had lost. The man glanced down at the children who seemed to have attached themselves to him. Éothain's face was grave ('Probably thinking about the battle and his dead companions,' thought Balian) but he brightened up when he saw the mischievous grin on the blacksmith's face.
"What is it, Sir Balian?" he asked eagerly. Surely the man had come up with something brilliant.
"My friends seem to be having some trouble over there," replied Balian, indicating the elf and dwarf who were arguing whether Legolas' shooting of a twitching orc constituted as a kill. "Shall we help them out?"
"Umm…" said Éothain. The argument was slightly too heated for his liking and he was afraid of the elf and the dwarf. "Are you sure that it's a good idea?"
"Absolutely," said Balian. "Why wouldn't it be?"
The boy glanced up at him worriedly. Clearly the blacksmith was too tired. He was not thinking clearly. Before Éothain could answer though, a shout caught Balian's attention. Éowyn was running towards them, jumping over orc corpses with her skirts in her hand. Aragorn and Éomer were following behind. She flung himself at Balian and hugged him hard. "Thank goodness you're alive!" she cried. Her embrace aggravated his ribs. He gasped and immediately she released him.
"You're hurt," she said, looking him up and down and seeing his thigh where an arrow had grazed him.
"It's nothing," he said.
"That's what all men say," she said "even when it is something." She took his arm. "Come. You're going to the infirmary."
"What are you doing with the poor man, 'Wyn?" said Éomer, coming up to them.
"He's hurt," said Éowyn. She glared at him murderously as if it was entirely his fault that she had to convince the stubborn blacksmith to go to the infirmary.
Éomer put up his hands in defence and took a step backwards as his sister advanced on him menacingly. "I didn't know he was on our side, I swear," said Éomer. "I've already apologized and he's accepted my apology. Why don't you ask him before you kill me?"
"That's right," said Balian hurriedly. If looks could kill then Éomer would have been reduced to ashes long ago. "We're friends, Éowyn."
"Couldn't you have questioned him before you started torturing him?" she said testily to her brother, pointedly ignoring the man who was the subject of their conversation. Aragorn decided to intervene before Éowyn lost her temper completely.
"It was all a terrible misunderstanding, milady," he said "and it has been forgiven." He turned to Balian. "Now you are going to go to the infirmary without a word."
"But Aragorn, I'm…"
"Balian. Infirmary. Now."
"Tend to the others first," insisted Balian. "I can wait. It's nothing; truly it is…" His friend glared at him. "Fine; I'll go to the infirmary but you look worse so you'll have to come too."
"Balian," said Aragorn impatiently. "I am a healer and I think I know whether or not I need tending to."
"Actually," said Gandalf, coming up from behind them. "I think you should both go to the infirmary. Éomer and Éowyn will take you there, won't they?" He looked at the siblings meaningfully.
"Of course," said Éomer, bodily steering Balian towards the infirmary before he could protest. Aragorn followed sulkily, led by Éowyn. Balian's young charges trailed them.
The blacksmith turned back to glance at Gandalf who was chuckling and shaking his head. "Gandalf," he said. "You might want to keep an eye on Legolas and Gimli. They're having an argument and I think they need help to reach a conclusion."
"Fine," said Gandalf. "I'll take them to the infirmary and you can be the judge."
Moments later, Balian found himself seated on a pallet and struggling to take off his chainmail. His sides had gone stiff and he found it extremely difficult to lift his arms. Guy sauntered in, looking smug.
"Having trouble, blacksmith?" he gloated.
"Go to hell, Lusignan," growled Balian. He was too tired to think of a clever comeback.
"You wound me," declared Guy in a dramatic mocking manner. "But I see you are wounded worse."
"At least he has something to prove that he fought bravely and did not cower in the background like a beaten dog," said Éowyn coldly, coming over with a pile of bandages.
"Now listen here, wench…" Guy began. His voice failed him as he caught sight of Éomer's blazing eyes.
"Leave us," said Éowyn. Guy hesitated.
"You heard my sister," said Éomer. "Scram."
Guy fled, and Balian gave a relieved smile.
"How can you put up with him?" said Éomer. "I've met him twice, briefly, and I already want to strangle him.
"Guy has that affect on people," said Balian as Éowyn divested him of his armour. "I think his sole purpose in life is to test my patience." His undershirt's front was dotted with blood. She removed that too. A large purple bruise bloomed on his chest and his skin was scored by the rings of his mail shirt, even through cloth. He winced as Aragorn came over to probe at his ribs.
"You call that nothing?" said Éowyn flatly.
"I'm still alive, milady," said Balian. "That has to count for something."
"Men!" said Éowyn in exasperation, shaking her head.
Balian's charges peered at him from behind the adults. No one had noticed them, until now.
"Does it hurt very much?" asked Freda as Aragorn started to bind Balian's ribcage. The blacksmith was saved from lying when the ranger pulled on the bandage to tighten it, making him grunt in pain.
"Of course it hurts, silly," said Éothain.
"Why don't you go outside for a while?" suggested Balian, changing the subject. "Children shouldn't really be here."
Éothain nodded and herded the others outside, just a certain elf and a certain dwarf came in, still arguing.
"I tell you, Gimli," Legolas was saying. "It was a kill. That orc was twitching."
"How many times do I have to say it before it gets through your thick skull elf?" said Gimli. "It was twitching because it had my axe embedded in its nervous system! Anyway, it was still twitching after you shot it."
"It was still moving, even after you brought it down," said Legolas. "Therefore you did not manage to kill it. Your count is now lowered to forty-two. It's a draw."
"A draw? Clearly, I won!"
"My dear dwarf, I am being courteous when I say it is a draw. In actual fact, I won."
"Do explain," said Balian, interrupting their conversation despite the fact that Aragorn was mouthing the word 'no' at him. "How can you have won when you two cannot even decide how many orcs you both killed?"
Legolas sighed. "I shouldn't have to explain it to you of all people, Balian," said the elf. "Do you remember that ladder? At least twenty orcs would have been crushed because of that one shot and I haven't included them. If Gimli won't play nicely then I will have to add them to my score. That makes sixty three, or sixty two at the very least, outscoring the dwarf by far."
Gimli gaped at the elf, not sure of what to say. Legolas grinned smugly. "Therefore, according to these numbers," he continued "I declare myself the winner." The elf turned to the dwarf. "My friend, I believe you owe me something?"
Gimli son of Gloín dearly wanted to say that the elf believed wrongly, but that would be a dent in his honour. He couldn't compromise his reputation, although his reputation as a fearsome dwarf warrior was about to be ruined anyway.
"Fine," he growled. "I'll pretend to be a donkey for two hours. Satisfied?"
"You'll what, Master Dwarf?" said Éomer with his eyes wide. He looked from Gimli to Legolas then back to Gimli again.
"The deal was three hours," said Legolas cheerfully "but I am a merciful elf and I accept your offer."
"When do the two hours begin?" asked Éowyn. She wanted to be as far away as possible when they began. Watching an elf being killed by an angry dwarf who was pretending to be a donkey was not a pleasant thing.
"They start now," said Legolas.
"Come on, Sister," said Éomer. "I am sure the King will want to see us." He turned to the others. "We take our leave."
"I need to look after the little ones," said Balian, snatching up his clothing and hastening for the door. He would have to wait until Legolas stopped being so evil before he could get back at the elf for calling him the 'childminder of Rohan'.
"I think I'll stay and make sure nothing happens," said Aragorn. He wanted to try and dissuade Legolas from humiliating the proud dwarf.
'Brave man to try to get between the elf and his wishes,' thought Balian as he sped through the door, bumping into Gandalf.
"Ho, young man," said the wizard. "What's the hurry? You look as if you have a balrog on your tail. Tell me, have you helped them to reach a conclusion yet?"
"Err, it seemed that Legolas did not need my help after all," said Balian. "Please try and stop what's about to happen."
Gandalf frowned in confusion, just as what sounded like an angry 'hee-haw' reached their ears. The wizard rushed in, no doubt to stop the madness. Balian lingered just outside the door, wanting to see what was going on yet afraid to go in. Gimli no doubt would be incensed, especially since all of his friends, save one, had deserted him in his time of need. (At the moment, the dwarf probably did not number Legolas among his friends.) Curiosity got the better of him and Balian peered in around the door.
"…don't be absurd, Legolas," Gandalf was saying. "It is totally inappropriate that Gimli has to pretend to be a beast of burden at all, let alone for such a long time. I am sure that Gimli would not do this to you if it was you who lost."
"Oh yes I would," muttered the dwarf under his breath. Gandalf glared at him and he shut his mouth.
"A promise is a promise," said Legolas firmly.
"You are being immature. How old are you, Master Greenleaf?"
"Two thousand nine hundred and thirty one years old; a mere adolescent by my people's standards. I can afford to be immature."
"Not with this sort of thing you can't," said Aragorn. "Even Pippin wouldn't do this."
Legolas crossed his arms. He was not giving up. Gandalf knew the expression on the young elf's face. He had often seen King Thranduil wearing it. The wizard decided to change tactics. "Well, since you are merely an adolescent and still prone to childish pranks, I must leave you behind when we go to Isengard," he said. "We cannot afford to have a child hold us back."
Legolas glared. "Fine," he said. "The deal is off." Then he grinned. "The dwarf didn't make a very good donkey anyway."
"Why you…!" shouted Gimli, lunging at the elf. Laughing, Legolas leapt out of the way and ran out of the room, chased by a furious dwarf.
They left for Isengard after they had returned to Edoras to rest and dine. Gandalf rode at the front with Théoden. Aragorn rode beside Legolas and Gimli. Balian brought up the rear with Éomer. The ride was long and much destruction met their eyes as they passed through Rohan. Houses and farms had been razed to the ground, with nothing but burnt rubble and stubble to indicate that there had been anything in the first place. Rotting, half-eaten livestock littered the ground and gave off the foul odour of death. Rohan had truly been brought to its knees by this Saruman's hordes. Why any conqueror wanted to cause so much destruction was beyond Balian's understanding. Did Saruman want to be the lord of nothing?
Éomer's face was dark with anger as he surveyed the ruins of the villages. He desperately wanted to have his hands around Saruman's neck, and Grima Wormtongue's as well. They would pay for what they had done. He would see to it.
In the distance, a tall tower rose from the horizon like a proud spear jutting up at the heavens in defiance. It looked the way Balian expected the Tower of Babel to look like. The city of Jerusalem was a mere village compared to this. Seeing it made him feel small and insignificant in this world of colossal feats of construction and great men. Here he was, riding with kings, wizards and immortal beings as if he was an equal. He suddenly realized how out of place he was in this world and he longed for the comfortable familiarity of his forge back in France. That was where he truly belonged. He was a blacksmith, a craftsman. He was born to build, not to destroy.
They travelled to the tower through Fangorn Forest to avoid the boggy ground south of Isengard. It seemed as if there had been a flood recently. With Gandalf, the forest appeared to lose some of its malevolence. The blacksmith regarded the trees warily, remembering what had happened to the orcs outside Helms Deep. He had no desire to be crushed by a tree. Guy was not part of their company and Balian was very glad to be free of him. The man had been complaining throughout the journey back to Edoras. If his arms weren't cramped from shooting so many arrows, then he would have some other ailment to whine about. He was now 'resting' in Edoras under the watchful eye of Éowyn. Everyone doubted that the Shieldmaiden would let him lie around and do nothing.
As they near the tower, land gave way to water and the horses had to trudge through it to reach the tower. On the wall around the tower were two small figures making enough noise for a contingent of men. When they saw the King and his company, they stood up and raised their mugs of God-knew-what in a toast.
"Welcome, milords, to Isengard!" cried Merry with a flourish, brandishing a piece of meat. Pippin's mouth was too full to say anything.
"You young rascals!" shouted Gimli in joy. "A merry hunt you've led us on and now we find you here feasting and… and smoking."
Pippin had swallowed sufficiently to retort. "We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well-earned comforts," he said, blowing out a smoke ring. The dwarf looked appalled. "The salted pork is particularly good."
"Salted pork?" said Gimli hopefully, forgetting all his grievances against the hobbits.
Gandalf shook his head. "Hobbits," he said.
"Is there any left for us?" said Balian.
"We hobbits are always hospitable towards our friends," said Merry.
"Come down here," said Aragorn. "I'm getting a crick in my neck from looking up at you."
The hobbits scrambled down and waded their way towards the riders. Merry and Pippin climbed up into the saddle before Balian and Aragorn respectively. The youngest hobbit was still holding a tankard.
"You seem taller," said Balian. Pippin grinned. In front of Aragorn, Merry looked smug.
"You haven't changed," said Pippin.
Balian laughed. "I hope not. It hasn't been that long since I last saw you."
"Oh, enough has changed alright," chuckled Legolas. "Did you know that Balian has taken up a new profession?"
"What new profession?" said Balian.
"Nanny," said Legolas solemnly.
'He is really going to regret this,' thought Balian darkly as he rode up to the tower with a laughing hobbit in front of him. Before he could think of how he would get his revenge, movement caught his eye. It was a walking, talking tree. The blacksmith blinked a couple of times to make sure that he was not dreaming.
"Pinch me," he whispered to Pippin.
"Why?" asked the hobbit.
"There is a walking, talking tree in front of me. I want to know whether I'm dreaming or not."
"You're not dreaming, Balian. That's Treebeard. He's an ent; a tree-herder. He takes care of the forest, like the way a shepherd takes care of sheep. He's not actually a tree himself."
'God,' thought Balian. 'What next? Walking, talking rocks?' Before he could ask any more questions, a silence fell upon the group and Balian followed their gazes towards the top of the tower. A lone sinister silhouette stood there, looking down on them.
"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King," said a beguiling voice. "Can we not take counsel together, as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"
Balian did not even have to guess who it was who had spoken.
All eyes turned to the King.
"We shall have peace," said Théoden. Everyone looked at him as if he had gone mad. Balian suspected that he had. Why would he want peace with the person who had wanted to raze his country to the ground.
"We shall have peace," said Théoden more vehemently "when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet, for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace."
They collectively released a sigh of relief. For a moment, they thought the King had fallen under Saruman's spell yet again.
"Gibbets and crows?" spat Saruman. "Dotard!" He schooled his voice and made it calm again, but this time, it carried an underlying haughty tone which surpassed even Guy's arrogance.
"What do you want, Gandalf the Grey?" he sneered. "Let me guess; the key to Orthanc and the key to Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"
"Your treachery has already cost many lives," said Gandalf civilly. "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel."
"So you have come here for information," said Saruman. His face was too far away to see but Balian could hear the cold smile in his voice. "I have some for you." From within his sleeve he pulled out a globular object and held it out before his face. "Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it! Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die!"
A/N: I know I have taken some liberties with the characters' personalities in this chapter, especially with Legolas and Gimli. It's all for the sake of comedy. They always struck me as the most immature members of the Fellowship after Merry and Pippin. Please review! Reviews brighten up my day! And I write faster if I get more reviews and therefore the next chapter could be longer :) Till next time!