Hello again all, and terribly sorry for all the delays. I hope school started off well for those of you still participating, and for the rest, that Fall has begun nicely and that nobody got caught in any hurricane-of-doomness. If you've peeked at my homepage lately, you know why there haven't been any updates. If you haven't, wait 'til the end of the chapter and I'll tell you then! Anyway, enjoy the long-overdue…

Chapter Thirteen

Gimli was less than thrilled at their new arrangement. He found himself surrounded by the Elf, king, woman and Ranger as they walked as surreptitiously as possible through the dirty marble of the crumbling, aged city. While the Dwarf had his cloak of Lórien—given him by the gracious Lady Galadriel 'ere she had departed Middle-earth—wrapped securely around his person, he was still a Dwarf. And Dwarves, apparently, were not common visitors to this shabby city. The state of the stonework alone—ill-make, he thought it, and iller-repair was it in—would have told Gimli that had he thought to question it. But he knew that no Dwarf had been here for many long years at the least, and personally he doubted if any had ever come. To be the first Dwarf to visit Ostad in at least an Age might not be a matter in which to take pride, but it would still be quite a thing—

And the last thing they needed right now was attention. And so, rather than walking guard around the fair Lady of Ithilien, they were surrounding Gimli to keep his shorter stature from drawing unfriendly eyes. Their shabby-looking cloaks (although Gimli would never have thought such a thing about any gift of the Lady, the cloaks of Lórien had collected a fair amount of dust, and further the fabric was very good at blending to its surroundings, and thus gave here the appearance of shabbiness) and New City dirt was enough to prevent anyone from looking at them hard, but all it would take was one curious thought to draw the guard. They had just finished a desperate sprint, and while Gimli would not have admitted it, especially in the company of Legolas, he was not in the mood to look forward to another race of such speed in the near future.

Thus, his grumbles had been limited to a stern glare at Legolas every so often. At least the flighty Elf had enough sense about him to keep his blasted hood up and over both face and ears. And fortunately, Gimli was here to watch over the capricious creature and see that he did not get distracted by—by the clouds, or a stray scent of trees, or something of that sort. There was no one like a Dwarf to keep one grounded, and when traveling with an Elf it was highly necessary to have someone to perform that task.

Gimli took his task very seriously, and every time Legolas looked for an instant as if he were about to be distracted there was a Dwarven glower and harrumph to draw the foolish princeling back to the matter at hand.

"Gimli," Legolas murmured quietly, "if your throat is so dry as to affect you so poorly, I am sure that I could convince Aragorn to stop a moment that you may wet it. We would never want to push Dwarven endurance too far, after all, and we know how fragile a thing it is."

"The Elves would know of fragile, frail things that they are," Gimli whispered in reply, "but come, Legolas, if you need a rest, all you need do is ask for one. There is no need to invent excuse, when all here are used to compensating for Elvish weakn—"

"Enough!" hissed Aragorn vehemently. "We do not need you two bickering now on top of our other difficulties!" They subsided, but Legolas gave Gimli a glare that said he would eagerly resume this discussion of Elvish "weaknesses" at a later date.

Aragorn sighed and resisted the urge to bash his head repeatedly on the pale stone building at his side. He knew that the two friends' banter was merely their own personal way of expressing concern for one another and relieving tension, but sometimes he found it hard to deal with. He had long since given up attempting to comprehend them, but even still they sometimes pushed his nerves too far—and right now, Aragorn's nerves were on the frayed side.

He remembered once at a meeting to debate—what was it they were discussing again? Ah, yes, they had been trying to figure out how best to deal with Minas Morgul, once Minas Ithil, and somehow Gimli and Legolas had begun arguing about something. Eventually, to prevent the entire conference from degenerating in chaos, the king had been forced to banish the Elf and Dwarf from the room and the discussion. It had been long before they had allowed him to forget that particular action. Aragorn smiled slightly, remembering how thoroughly he had been paid back.

Then he sighed and shook his head, and smiled again. He did not know how those two did it, but somehow they had lessened Aragorn's tension as well as their own. He did not comprehend it, but he was not about to complain. Right now, he needed all the calming influence—well, perhaps calming was the wrong word. It would have been better to say that he needed all the casual irreverence those two could bring to drive the anxiety from the situation. And it had worked, somehow; and Aragorn was grateful.

Then he felt the unmistakable sensation of Elvish eyes boring into him, and turned to meet Legolas's strong stare. The king raised his eyebrows in a silent question, not wishing to draw the attention that speaking verbally might cause. Gleaming eyes drew his own gaze to the Lady Éowyn, and for a moment Aragorn was puzzled.

She looked as pale and fair—and as fierce—as ever. Her white face was set sternly beneath the shadows of the hood that hid her golden hair but she showed no signs of injury or fatigue as she walked calmly through the streets even paler, though no less dust-coated, than she was.

Aragorn looked back at Legolas, confusion plain on his face. The Elf mouthed one word, Faramir. Understanding hit the king like a siege engine and he groaned aloud at his obtuseness. How would he feel were Arwen captured? His blood ran chill at the very thought and memory, and he cursed himself for an oblivious fool. Aragorn reached across and lightly caught Éowyn's arm.

She turned to him, eyebrows raised in question—and in defiance; whatever he was planning in order to "protect" her, her eyes spoke plainly, he had best rethink, for she was in no mood for such coddling. Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word Legolas had practically lunged across Gimli to catch the king's shoulder. The Elf nearly shoved both king and lady down a side-street while Gimli and Mallor hurried after them.

Aragorn opened his mouth again, this time with a question on his tongue rather than reassurance, but again the Elf interrupted his words. "There is a patrol of guards. They are grumbling, I believe about the pointlessness of searching the Old City for interlopers, although I did not hear their words clearly enough to be certain. Either way, we cannot risk it."

Aragorn nodded, but once more could not speak, although this time it was Éowyn who cut him off. "We ought to make for the richer parts of the city; they are far less likely to search among the elite for shabby intruders than they are among those who have less power with which to protest the indignity."

Again, the king nodded agreement, but again his mouth was opened for no reason; Gimli spoke first. "But in the more elegant parts of the city, will there not be more guards to avoid rather than less? Is that not why we were staying to the smaller streets and alleys?"

Aragorn should have known better than to try to beat Legolas to responding to the Dwarf, but apparently he had yet to learn that lesson. Once more, the king's mouth opened and shut soundlessly as the Elf raised an eyebrow at his shorter friend. "Yet will not the guards know this as well as we? If they are searching for us, they are far more likely to look in the smaller streets and alleys than in the middle of the markets or at the doors of their lords' homes."

Gimli grumbled, unable to refute the logic but not wishing to agree with the Elf. At last, Aragorn opened his mouth, ready to speak; those three were now in agreement about their course of action, and none of them looked ready to offer further comments. Mallor, at least, was not going to interrupt his liege—

"Most likely they will have a perimeter, however, to prevent us from straying into the inner parts of the city while they search, in case they drive us out of hiding," the Ranger mused.

Aragorn opened his mouth in one last attempt—and the Elf spoke. "Then we shall have to make certain that we are hidden better than they search," Legolas said calmly.

The others nodded agreement, and Aragorn once more prepared to speak. The Elf abruptly leaned out of the alley and scanned the streets, now half-deserted as the noon-hour drew near. "Come," he whispered urgently, and they followed obediently. Shaking his head, Aragorn decided that he should have given up a while ago, and, smiling ruefully, trailed the others through the decayed marble streets of the Old City.

……..

Legolas leaned slowly around the corner, careful to keep his hood low to cover his Elven features. He silently thanked the Lady of the Golden Wood once more for the gift of their cloaks; in the fading light of growing evening, when mortal eyes are dimmed by the mix of sun and shade, he was all but invisible to sight as long as he did not move. Granted, were he in a forest or field the Elvish weaving would have hidden him far better, but even against cold once-white marble he was a faint shadow in the twilight.

That faint shadow scanned the streets with sharp eyes, then drew back to join his companions as they huddled in the darkness or an empty doorway. He could see weariness in the face of the Lady Éowyn, although she disguised it well. The Ranger, Mallor, also showed signs that the chase was telling, although the hardy Dúnadan would go many hours more 'ere he would have ever admitted it. Aragorn and Gimli, the other two of the Three Hunters, had endured a far harsher race, but even they would not have been adverse to a space of rest, Legolas judged. His own steps were still light and unwearied, but his heart was heavy enough to make up for that. He feared for Elladan and what the other Elf might be in danger of. He worried for Rhimbrón and prayed that the Man would live. He thought of Faramir and the others that had gone with him, and hoped that they were still alive. And then there was the Lady Éowyn…

Legolas shook his head, returning his thoughts to the necessary moment as he rejoined his friends. "The streets are empty," he hissed quietly. "There are none about as far as I can see."

"Most like they are accustomed to using this hour for their evening meal," Aragorn mused. "Come, we must make the best use of what time and solitude we have. No doubt guards still prowl, and not everyone is at table, yet the less people on the streets the less chance we have of being discovered."

"Yet we must be even more cautious," Gimli warned. "With less traffic on the streets it shall be harder to notice ahead those few that remain about."

Legolas arched an eyebrow haughtily and stared down his nose at his friend. "Do you doubt the superior senses of the Elves?" he inquired coolly. "Or have you perhaps forgotten that we need not rely only on the skills of our out of practice former-Ranger king?"

Gimli snorted and made to reply, but Aragorn stepped between them. "Peace!" he whispered harshly, taking care to spear both Legolas and Gimli with a sharp glare. When the Man turned to look at the Dwarf, Legolas rolled his eyes, making Gimli snicker. Aragorn turned back, but the prince had schooled his features into perfect innocence. Aragorn sighed and shook his head.

"Enough, friends, I pray," the king said tiredly. "While you two might well be able to go on all day, I would fain have reprieve from your endless banter. Come; we cannot slip out in secret this night. We must find somewhere in which to secret ourselves from discovery."

Legolas nodded seriously and started to speak, but at a hiss from Mallor, who had been watching the end of the alley, froze. The Elf cursed then clamped a hand over his mouth; fortunately Éowyn spoke no Sindarin, but still, to curse in the presence of the Lady—he had been spending too much time among mortals. Especially Dwarves. Aragorn and Gimli snorted; they both easily recognized the muttered words. Legolas blushed slightly but turned his attention to Mallor. "I hear them," he said before the Ranger could speak. "Come!"

The Elf sprinted off in the direction opposite that from which the noises had originated. Gimli, running beside him, shot an amused glance up at his taller friend.

"The superior senses of the Elves?" he muttered with a grin.

Legolas glared. "I would have heard them if you had not been distracting me," he retorted sharply.

Aragorn snickered. "Well, we certainly both heard you," he whispered. "And in the presence of a lady…" the Ranger tsked and shook his head.

Legolas's blush deepened and he searched for a reply but was interrupted before he could frame a suitable response.

"Hush, all of you," Éowyn commanded. "We have not the time." All three cast her a contrite glance, like little children caught in the act of immaturity. Éowyn sighed and rolled her eyes. "Males," she muttered dryly. They were all hopeless.

……..

Gimli turned as much of his attention away from the ground and his feet as he dared at this speed and watched the Elf. No one else might have noticed it, but Gimli knew something was wrong. Legolas was hard to distract, this he knew from experience, both of his own attempts and those of others. Under their current circumstances, nothing less than an appearance by one of the Valar (or those blasted gulls!) would have drawn the Elf's attention enough for the Ranger, Mallor, to hear the approaching enemy before the Elf did—and they were nowhere near the Sea. Gimli knew that something was wrong, although he did not know what.

So he watched.

Thus Gimli was aware before the others that Legolas had heard something and, due to how well Elf and Dwarf could read each other's features, Gimli knew his plans 'ere he spoke. It was with considerable surprise that the rest of the companions turned to the Dwarf when he abruptly signaled to the side with a hurried "there!"

Before questions could leave their lips, Legolas was agreeing. "Perfect, Gimli! Haste!" he commanded the others, all but dragging Éowyn into the alcove the Dwarf, with his keen eye for stone, had spotted in the dusty marble.

Confusion on their faces, the three humans followed the Elf and Dwarf through the archway. Gimli swore when they were stopped by a locked gate a few feet within the opening, but when he caught the Elf's eyes Legolas just shrugged; it would have to be enough. Then he grinned, promising to later tease the Dwarf for the misjudgment—but there was not time now.

Aragorn pressed Éowyn and Mallor against the gate with the other three between them and sight of the street. Both looked about to protest—Mallor no doubt dutifully as it was his role to protect the king, and Éowyn angrily for she needed no protection. Aragorn silenced them both before they spoke. "Lórien cloaks," he hissed, indicating the soft grey that garbed the former Fellowship of the Ring.

Then there was no more time for words, for even Gimli could hear the sounds of an approaching troop of guards. He glanced at Legolas; the Elf was tense but his hands were empty, so Gimli relaxed his grip on his axe—a little. The Dwarf would trust his friend's sharper senses (although of course he would never admit to either their being sharper or to trusting them) and assume that while there was indeed risk to their position they were not about to be discovered save through unhappy chance—

Legolas sighed slightly and Gimli was sure that he saw the Elf discreetly steady himself against the wall of the short tunnel they were in. Then Legolas blinked and it almost seemed as if the momentary flicker had been imagined. Gimli peered at his friend sharply but his face was too shadowed for the Dwarf to gauge its pallor.

He caught the Elf's eye and silently demanded an explanation but Legolas pretended—Gimli was sure he was pretending; they had exchanged far more complicated discussions wordlessly—pretended not to understand.

Gimli was about to verbally insist upon an answer but was forced silent as the patrol of guards trooped slowly past. The Dwarf held his breath, offering both prayer and thanks for the gracious Lady's Elvish cloaks. Without them, no shadow would have hidden the companions from the eyes of the soldiers even in the fading light of dusk.

With them…with them, they had a chance. With luck, it would be enough…

Reviewer Responses:

Slayer3 – deepest sympathies on the movie-bit. :( Now, what's this about a Nazgûl cloak and fellbeast…? That must be one big closet. What do you feed that thing, anyway? And…just why would you have one? Rhys asked suspiciously, thinking, my Spider Sense isn't so much tingling as it is dancing a jig.

Laiquendi – Oh dear, I hope you didn't hit your head on the way down…would you like some smelling salts? Yes, yes, just the puny mortals, of course my dear, of course… You just cancel that lynch-mob, thanks. Remember, lynching delays updates!

Deana – Qui? Our little Elf-Prince? Hide an injury? Naaaaaah…

lindahoyland – Thank you! I'm so glad I can suck you in and slowly drain your soul—I mean, so glad I can intrigue you! Thanks very much.

Jebb – Terribly sorry to cause any desperation…oh wait, no I'm not, I live for things like that, I forgot! Tee hee! I bet Gimli would get the Gold Medal every Olympic Games, too. He's a master Elf-basher. Nice summary, by the way! If anyone's lost as to what's going on, check Jebb's last review:)

Lil Pippin Padfoot – Hee hee, aw, I'm sorry, am I not being cool? Heh heh heh. Remember, precious, I am evil! Eeek, dad tried to fix computer? I'm so very, very sorry. I hope it's alive again?

Aranna – So glad you like my detail-obsessions! You get a hug for that: hug! However, why can't we have everything, or at least Eldar? Hope your holiday was absolutely smashingly fun! And just take sculpture, then you can burn things and get graded for doing so. But my dear Aranna, what do you mean you don't like cliffies? Everyone likes cliffies! I know I do…at least, when I'm the author I do! I stick my tongue out right back at you! Nyah-na-na! ;P

EastCoastie1500 – Happy Update Dance time! Ah, sunburning, yes…aloe vera is a great, great friend… So glad you're loving the story! And your socks, too.

Anyway, as usual, let me apologize for making you all wait so long. I had a good reason this time, though! See, my friend and I got the brilliant idea that it'd be fun to create a webcomic…so we did! She's writing and I'm drawing, and while it's about relatively "real" life rather than fun and fascinating fantasy, it means I get to mock normal people and play with Photoshop, so it's all good! The comic, at least, should update on schedule, mainly because it takes less time to scribble a strip than to work out a chapter, as well as because we poke and prod each other to keep ourselves on task. Anyway, if you want to check it out, you can find the comic at MundaneNirvana http / mundanenirvanaDOTcomicgenesisDOTcom

I promise, now that I've dealt with all the headache involved in getting it started up and posting, I'll find more time to write and you hopefully won't have to wait so long. Do my best, really, I promise!

So…no angry lynch mobs, right? …Right? Eeeeep…