It was uncommon for Gimli, son of Gloin, to wish he understood Sindarin. Only a year before he would have snorted indignantly at the very idea of such a thought. But now he wished for it, for it did not take elven ears to hear the voices through the doors that it seemed no one had bothered to close or ordered closed, and that he had slowly moved closer to until he – being seemingly ignored and yet fully disapproved of by the guards – was now waiting in front of. He wished even more fervently that he could understand what was happening since he had at least once heard his name, and a very uncharacteristic amount of desperation in Legolas' voice.
Just what he needed, something else to worry about. Ever since they had come here to this – he had to admit – nice place, with the stonework to make a dwarf happy and the forest to keep Legolas smiling, there had been a constant pressure on the Dwarf's mind. Of course, he had been prepared for it, or so he had thought, but Gimli had underestimated the discomfort of being constantly watched, standing out, the whispers, the looks. It was only Legolas' presence that made him stay and endure it all with as much grace as he could.
Gimli was just wondering how long this might last until either he or the Elves gave up and some form of truce was called when he suddenly had to jump back to avoid being run down by Legolas. The look on his friend's face was just as one would have expected after hearing the desperation in his voice earlier.
"What is wrong? Lad…"
But the Elf did not even seem to hear, or if he did he did not listen. By the time Gimli was over the surprise, Legolas was almost out of sight.
"Legolas, wait!"
Gimli set off at a run, following his friend, who, although he was not running, still had a good head start and the long legs that would make it hard for the Dwarf to catch up.
Thranduil appeared in the doorway only moments later, and his eyes followed the direction where first his son and then Gimli had disappeared. He looked angry, and...puzzled.
The chase, if one would call it such, lasted only a few minutes. It wound its way through several corridors, downwards and ever deeper into the heart of the mountain that housed the stronghold. Soon the carefully hewn stonework, beautiful sculptures and adorned walls and ceilings gave way to empty gray tunnels, with less and less light reaching here, for the torches in sconces went from frequently spaced to farther and farther apart to none at all.
Legolas knew these tunnels were not even used anymore. In fact, Legolas did not know why they had been built in the first place. He thought they were most likely for storage, or for the purpose of providing shelter in times of danger. In his youth he had sometimes come here to play hide and seek, to have the kind of adventures in the dark that children of all races seem to dream up, or to simply enjoy the challenge of finding his way through here.
These tunnels were not particularly confusing in their layout, but without light and landmarks to go by, even a few branchings were enough to result in someone becoming lost. Legolas, however, did not lose his way, even though he would not have cared if he had. He simple ran, until a wall stopped him and he ended up leaning against it, breathing heavily – not from the effort of running, but from the effects of the tumult in his mind. That did not matter either. No one would see him here, ask questions, or expect a certain posture from him. Down here there were no eyes on him, no expectations. He could be himself…
And that was when – it seemed like the first time – he heard Gimli's call.
Gimli's mood had gone down rapidly during the last few minutes. Running after an Elf who seemed deaf as well as stubborn would have made him mad beyond belief if it had not been for the worry that only grew stronger the further he followed his friend down into the dark passages beneath the mountain.
This was not like Legolas, not like the Legolas he knew, and after all they had been through together he fancied he knew him very well.
But what was he doing here? Running blindly after an Elf he had long lost sight of? Most of the time the tunnels had run in a straight line, and for once Legolas was not quiet in his steps, so Gimli had been able to stay on his trail. But now there was no way to tell. He stood in a crossroad that was shaped almost as a small round chamber with no less than five tunnels leading in different directions.
In a hurry and without any system Gimli checked several of those tunnels, but he could not pick up the slightest sound from Legolas. Yet, that turned out not to be his biggest problem, because after a few moments of hurried search he realized that in his worry and agitation he had forgotten to keep track of where he had come from in the first place.
A curse almost as old as the world itself escaped him. He, a Dwarf at home underground, was lost.
He huffed in and released several deep breaths before uttering a single word. "Legolas?"
Oh, this call had some cost in pride, but there was no way around it, and at second thought perhaps this was what was needed to finally get the Elf's attention back – if his voice could reach wherever Legolas had gone.
"Legolas, you had better hear me because I am only going to say this once. I need your help. I can hardly see anything down here, and I am lost and I would like to get out of here alive and I hate wet feet!"
Indeed, the ground was covered with an ankle-high layer of dark water, which in the dim light looked forbidding, as if the next step could lead one into the abyss of a deep underground lake.
"Legolas? You stupid Elf, answer me!"
In any other situation Legolas might have smiled and thought up a fitting reply for the insult, but not now. He felt too...empty. But he turned his head and raised his voice to something that could almost be called a call.
"I am here."
Indeed, he could hear Gimli stomping around, splashing water, and since he knew that it would be difficult for the Dwarf to get a bearing on the direction he repeated the call, until he could hear his friend stomp closer. My friend, I wished for soltitude, yet I cannot bear to send you away.
However, he did nothing to acknowlege Gimli's presence either. He continued leaning against the cold wall while his thoughts continued to run in circles.
Gimli stood still, trying not to wiggle his toes in the water that covered his feet and made him quite thoroughly miserable, for the truth was that the actions of the Elf worried him beyond the misery of having wet feet in a dark cavern he was lost in under an Elven realm. He would have liked to sit down, but thought the better of that as wet feet were not nearly as uncomfortable as a wet sitter-downer. So he waited, and tried to figure an approach that would help to ease his friend's suffering.
Finally, after so long a silence, he thought he could hear the leather of his boots stretching and his toes taking on the aspects of wrinkled prunes, he spoke. "Tell me what happened, Lad. I heard my name."
At first it seemed like there was not going to be an answer, but then Legolas took a deep breath and turned enough that he faced toward Gimli, even though he was still leaning against the wall. "You are right, we talked about you, and your presence here. It was just like we had feared." At this point Legolas nearly smiled at the memory of the long talks he and Gimli had had during the long journey north, playing through various scenarios of what might happen. But back then it had all been in jest.
The short moment passed as quickly as it had come, though, and the darkness that clutched at Legolas' heart returned. "It was almost exactly like we had expected. Almost." Another long moment of silence ensued, but then the Elf started to recall the whole scene, just like it had happened, and translated his father's words painfully accurately. "And he was serious, Gimli. He fully means it. I…I do not know what to do." Once again Legolas shook his head, as if the movement could jumble his thoughts and they might then fall into a helpful pattern.
Gimli alternately reddened and paled, unseen in the lack of light and because Legolas was not looking in his direction fully anyway. He did manage to keep his fists from balling, but his fingers twitched in a way that would suggest he was making an effort he usually did not. He also swallowed a rather succinct curse, and then gave a cough as it tried to go down the wrong way. "Well Lad," he finally said, sighing, which was a loud sound in a Dwarf. "Twas worse than we imagined, but not such a hard blow as we cannot duck it and be no the worse for wear. I will wait for you on the edge of the Forest, and when you finish visiting here and seeing yer friends again, I'll be there, with a meal cooked and possibly a dead Orc or two for decor. I will even find you some fruits and those ve-ge-ta-bles you favor, though no asking for me to fetch those mushrooms you and the Hobbits all like. I have ta draw the line somewhere. Now, show me out of this...place, and I'll be a friend to ye and not make ye choose."
At this Legolas shook his head violently again, and the movement was clearly visible in the darkness, and then something happened that Gimli had not seen before either: Legolas started pacing, which made for a strange scene in the low water. "No, Gimli. It is...not...that...easy. You see, if I just give in, and you leave, then my father would find ways of keeping me here for months at least. That would be a long lonely wait for you, back in the forest. What is even worse, he would have won!"
Now, slowly, the body language that Gimli was used to returned to the Elf and Legolas looked more and more the fighter again, one who did not give up easily. It was impossible to tell in the darkness whether there was the determined gleam in his eyes, but Gimli fancied that it was quite likely. "Word would spread how quickly I 'came to my senses' as soon as I was among my own kind again, and in the end things would be worse than before, because this would reinforce the old belief that Dwarves are not to be trusted and better stay far away from us. And I would have to live with that, hiding the truth of my feelings, and that would be betraying both my people and our friendship. No Gimli, I cannot do that."
Gimli nodded slowly, digesting the feelings behind the words. It was a tangle, to be sure. Yet Gimli felt a strong wave of warmth spread through him that Legolas was so sure of their friendship, that it meant enough to him that he was not willing to give it up. Gimli reached up and gave the Elf's nearest arm a squeeze. "Ye honor me," he said, and then said gruffly. "Then let us go back to face your father, and I will either talk some sense into him or end up in the dungeon like my father did, for I will no let him treat his son like a dog he can kick around. Lad, lead on. I plan to get your father's fine carpets nice and wet with Dwarven footprints."
Usually this manner of speech would have brought laughter to Legolas, and even in this situation the Elf responded with a short chuckle. Even though his smile did not show in the darkness it could be heard in his voice when he spoke. "Very well my friend, I will lead you out of the caves, since your legendary Dwarven sense for orientation underground seems to have failed you." Even though the thought of facing his father, and especially the thought of Gimli having words with him made Legolas shudder, he knew that they would have to do it sooner or later. With the alternative being staying down here, getting wetter feet, sooner seemed to be preferable.
So Legolas lead the way back up again, through tunnels, and up a number of stairs, without much hurry, but with no easily obvious hesitation either. What was coming was unavoidable. Together they had faced Mordor's army at the Black Gates; they would be able to get through this.
tbc