Chapter 6

Gimli was as silent as ever a Dwarf was on the march back to the Stronghold. He glanced briefly up at the walls and especially at the work on the door he had admired. He doubted he would ever see that side of it again. So it comes to this? he thought, and even they were nearly expressionless. He had long since stopped leaving a trail of blood, yet the evidence of it was covering parts of him, and he knew every Elf the small group passed could see and smell it was the blood of their kin, and that he was unarmed and fully guarded. He sighed, and hoped at least he would be given a chance to say goodbye to Legolas.

The throne room was deep into the Stronghold, and another Elf now walked beside him other than one of the original three who had come upon him easing their comrade into the afterlife. The third had run ahead to summon the King. Gimli knew Thranduil would not be happy about this, and there was no blame for that in the Dwarf's heart.

They were admitted, and Thranduil was just appearing from another door, hastily pulling on a grandly embroidered overtunic. When Gimli was ordered to halt a distance back, and four spears were pointed at him, he only watched passively. He watched as Thranduil listened to whispers from the one Elf. The King kept flicking glances his way, but was listening attentively, his brows rising once in surprise, lowering in sorrow, then holding steady in Kingly anger. Thranduil turned to two guards at his right, and ordered them to find Legolas.

Gimli was glad, for at least he might catch a glimpse of his friend one last time.

After the guards left in search of Legolas several minutes stretched in uncomfortable silence, until suddenly the doors where thrown open again in a hurry. Not fast enough, though, for the wings were barely opened far enough to admit anyone yet when Legolas came barging through at a run. His face was etched with worry, and not even the short flicker of relief that crossed his features once he spotted Gimli changed that.

With all the dignity and grace that he could muster - which was a lot - he stopped right next to his friend. Appearances and demeanour were important, he knew, no mater how urgent the feelings in his heart. "Mylord," he greeted his father with a proper bow, but then turned to Gimli. "Tell me what happened."

Thranduil spoke before the Dwarf had a chance. "I am glad you are unharmed, else this Dwarf would have had no other chances to speak. Legolas, stand aside, and let me handle this."

Legolas hesitated, but in the end he did as he was being told. Angering his father by opposing ignoring a simple order in front of others would only make matters worse, and things already were as bad as he could imagine. But that was what he had thought a few hours earlier already – no matter how bad, things could get worse, somehow, it seemed.

Gimli smiled briefly up at his friend, and remained quiet. He turned back to face Thranduil.

Thranduil came down the steps from his throne and stopped a spear's length from those guards pointing their leaf-bladed weapons at the guest only truly welcomed by one. "Gimli son of Gloin, of a race unwelcome in this land, how came you to take the life of

Arthenias, a well-respected guard of long standing in Mirkwood?"

Gimli waited a moment before answering, first closing his eyes and saying the prayer he had wanted to say earlier. "King of Mirkwood, I offer my condolences to the family, friends, and realm of Arthinias, Guard of Mirkwood. I hope I can tell what happened, and be truly listened to."

Thranduil nodded only once. "You will be listened to, and your story checked for truth."

Gimli explained then, even telling of the contest to hunt and bring in the most fare for the picnic. "The fish were my way of proving myself. And then Arthinias surprised me. Of course I took up my small axe, but I lowered it again quickly. And when the bank gave way, it was a simple accident. The Elf grabbed me to keep me from falling, and neither of us knew my axe had bitten him. We both fell into the water, and that was…that." Gimli's voice lowered. "No one here will want to believe that an Elf was killed helping a Dwarf keep from toppling into a stream because a bank gave way. I wish I had never seen that stream, nor felt so compelled to better Legolas' hunting. I wish Arthinias lived and breathed and enjoyed the sun still." He looked up, into the King's eyes. "A senseless death, King; it will bring his family no comfort to have been trying to keep a Dwarf from getting wet. I am sorry."

Legolas swallowed. An accident, a terrible accident, he had suspected something similar, but hearing the story still but it all into an uncomfortably clear understanding. Slowly he walked over to Gimli again, deliberately not looking at his father while he did it, lest the King might signal him to stop, and put a hand on his shoulder. As small a gesture as it was, it was all he could do for his friend at the moment.

Gimli appreciated the hand on his shoulder, and glanced only briefly up at his friend. "I'm sorry, Laddie." Thranduil's eyes sent him an angry yet enigmatic look then, and so he turned again to face the King.

Thranduil was aware too well of the mood in the hall. He had had many millennia to learn to read body language even of such self-controlled beings as Elves, and his subjects were not at all happy. "Dwarf, keep your silence awhile." His voice was sterner than he might want it to be, yet in his own heart he rebelled against this so-senseless death. "Are there witnesses?"

Gimli, obediently, spoke not, but shook his head.

"Then I call for evidence to be brought forth. What did the guards see, and hear, and what does the area show that can tell what happened?"

"We heard a roar, and followed the sound. When we arrived we found Arthenias, dead, and this dwarf kneeling next to him. And the axe that killed him.."

Even as one of the guards stepped forward and told his view of the events, Legolas gripped Gimli's shoulder a bit tighter, for he realized that in his shock and haste he had not taken a close look around at trails or other evidence. What a lapse that was! He found himself glancing at the door several times, wishing he could get out again and make up for it quickly. But now that he was in the throne room he could not leave until given permission.

"There is very little evidence - yet" he heard himself say the moment the guard had finished, and before anyone else could say anything else. "No one thought of looking for traces in the excitement. Pray, I seek permission to go out and collect what evidence I can find." Others were already on their way to retrieve the body. Legolas hoped they would not too much disturb the scene, for he was confident, if only enough traces of what happened could be found they had to point at his friend's innocence.

Thranduil could not help but send Legolas a look of disappointment. "Nay, Legolas, you are not clear headed in this." He looked at his Elves, and said clearly, "Many in this chamber are not clear minded."

He turned to Gimli and approached him. "I will go myself. You will wait in a cell, and Legolas will be locked in the cell beside yours, and guards will tell me if you speak at all, for you do not have either of you leave to say a word after this moment until I say otherwise." He nodded to his own guards and said, clearly, "Their garments will be taken but for their undertunics, until we know more." Only once did he seek Legolas' eyes, and in them he let his expression remain neutral, hoping his son would understand.

Legolas gasped, which was actually, an objection turned into a gasp in the last possible moment. And even afterwards he had to guard himself not to speak. This was outrageous. If only he were given the chance he could quickly go and ..

Yet, there was no crossing Thranduil's will in this. Disobedience even if in the smallest of things, especially in this setting, would only serve to turn more minds against them. Now was not the time for talk, not in this setting. Still he was shocked. Looking in his father's eyes and found a cool mind there, something that both gave him confidence and chilled him to the bone. In the end he broke the eye contact, for guards were now on either side of him and he found himself pushed to hand over his weapons. He did it slowly, though, for he did not agree with this arrangement at all, and wished to show it, since he had not allowed to put his opinion into words.

Gimli, who of course was already disarmed, was already being led out.

He did not glance around, but let his ears do his work. He had almost smiled sadly when Legolas protested in the only way he could, and he wished with all his might that he had not gotten his friend into trouble with him! It had been when he was just turning to give Legolas the smile that he hoped would encourage him that he understood when the guards shoved him so he almost fell, and in falling gave the guards the reason they needed to take him by the arms and haul him physically from the room.

Now the dwarf wished to protest, but he did not. Keenly he felt a death on his shoulders, so hands trying to get around his thick, corded biceps did not overly trouble him. His dignity could stand it. So Gimli went quietly. He did not even memorize the halls and corridors they walked through.

But when they came to the stairs leading down into the dungeon, and the heavy doors each had to be unlocked by two different keys, he felt fear course through him. He fought back just a wee bit, and the Elf on his left clouted him on the head for it. He saw stars for only a few moments, but it was still long enough for them to reach a long bank of cells.

"Obey the King, Dwarf. You are permitted your undertunic. Leave everything else on the floor here. And remove your boots."

Gimli only nodded again, his remorse still strong enough that he gave the guards no cause for worry as he left everything he owned in a neat pile beside the door. He expected to be shoved into the cell then. However, he was sorely tried to keep his voice unheard when the Elves took the metal clasps from his hair and beard.

Only then did he finally get a glance at Legolas.

Legolas was positively unhappy. Not only was he deprived of a chance for helping his friend, he was also treated as an accomplice or a danger. The guards had treated him with enough respect on the way down, so that he could make his way with dignity, and besides moving slowly he gave them no reason to put hands on him, something they seemed thankful for. Once stripped of the rest of his gear and outer garments he even delayed being moved to his cell for long enough to give Gimli a long look, which unfortunately failed to be completely comforting due to the elf's own uproar of feelings. What a day this had been.

Gimli of course had less influence on his guard and so was quickly shoved inside and the door locked, at which point Legolas sighed and allowed himself to be locked into his cell.

It was an uncomfortable place if ever he had seen one. No, actually, he had seen worse places, and been in worse places, like the Orc-infested ruins of Moria, but none of them held so much personal humiliation than this one. He had never been in a cell before, not even down here at the dungeons much, and certainly not locked in. The place smelled of damp and stale air, and the stone walls and floor were cold and uninviting. He sat down with his back against the wall and wondered what had brought him here, and what would happen now.

It was true, he was not clear headed. Yes, he was probably biased, and heavily, but since when was that a crime? He had all the right to investigate the accident as all others. One thing was for sure, he would have a long talk with his father later - when he was allowed to talk again, or even if not. And he would have to do something about the darkness here in the dungeons. Even after no more than a few minutes it started to be unnerving.

Gimli had tried to use his eyes to beg forgiveness from Legolas. However, he had been given no chance, being shoved into the dark cell. The first thing he did was step on some crunchy bug, and broke through a web with his hand. Still he managed not to make a sound, and only backed up against the wall the door was on. He heard the heavy bar fall into place and two locks again being locked. Elves certainly did not take chances, he almost muttered, feeling a brief resurgence of irritation. But he had to be honest. If the situation had been reversed, the Elf would have seen his cell only after the skin of his back had felt the lash a few times, and even then he would have thought this a comfortable place compared to the low ceiling and narrow floor of Dwarf dungeon cells. Gimli swallowed hard, and sighed, and moved over to the wall separating him from his one friend in Mirkwood. He hoped against better knowledge that Legolas was not too furious and upset.

Thranduil left the throne room before the...prisoners. Yes, he had to admit that Gimli was a prisoner, and that Legolas was going to have to get used to the cell for the time being, else word might spread that the King was giving his son special liberties.

What a mess it all was. An unwelcomed Dwarf guest had killed of one his Elves, and accident or not, it had happened, and there was no doubt who had caused the death. Something would have to be done to keep this situation from going from bad to worse. So he left the Stronghold with several guards versed in reading signs in ground, vegetation, and behavior.

The wagon bearing the body of Arthinias met them halfway, and halted when Thranduil raised his hand, and he pulled back the cloth over the body after saying a prayer. He then dared to study the wound which had taken the life of this Elf. Yes, it had been made by a small axe, and the placement of it was as it would be for such an accident as Gimli described.

Yet, a clever Dwarf might make such a wound just to claim it was an accident, for even a finger's width to either side of where it had bitten Arthinias, and the Elf would still live. Thranduil put the cloth over the death-paled face and signaled the wagon onward, and his party went in the other direction, toward the point of the accident. And then the first crack of thunder sounded, as if it had startled itself as much as the Elves, and the skies seemed equally shocked to suddenly be drenching everything under them.

Thranduil bowed his head against the downpour, and against the knowledge that a riverbank would feel the effects of such a downpour. Evidence was being destroyed before it was seen. He spurred his horse into a careful gallop, and reached the site in time to see almost twenty feet more of the bank give way to the river's temper.

He was staring at a bank, thinking if it was that close to giving way, the accident could be real, or the bank gave way after the murder, and thus provided an alibi. He knows no more now than he did before.

Those guards he had brought quickly dismounted, obviously as little pleased about the moody weather as their king, and spread out. Two hurried toward the river bank, though very careful, and looked around. It was no use. What traces there had been which had not yet been washed by the river were quickly erased by the rain or were already covered by the collapsed part of the bank. Those who searched the grass had slightly more luck. They quickly found the place where Arthinias had been found, and some heavy foot prints and marks of something - or someone - being dragged coming from the river. Aside that, there were many fresher footprints around from those who had come to pick up the body.

The most solid form of evidence was found in the form of two fish that had been strung together, and of which the string had gotten caught in the branches of a bush that grew partly into the water a short distance downstream

Thranduil looked at the fish, and the evidence, and found himself now more inclined to believe Gimli than he had before. Two fish. Slim evidence, but it was more than they had had. "Guards, what make you of this? I ask your opinions."

The guards seemed hesitant to talk, and hardly hid their unhappiness. They were angry, and grieved, and whatever each personally had hoped to find out there, had been disappointed. Finally, one spoke up. "There is not much that we can make anything of." he said. We know the river bank collapsed, we know that Arthinias was...that he died or at least took the wound down there somewhere and was dragged afterwards over there. There is no sign of a struggle or fight, but all traces down near the river have been erased. And it seems the dwarf did catch some fish. But none of this truly proves that his story is true. The bank could have collapsed during a fight, and conveniently erased all traces."

"Arthinias never even got his dagger out," one threw in, but the next answered: "We do not know that. The dwarf could simply have returned it to his belt after the murder."

Thranduil shook his head, forcefully. "Think you such evidence would have missed the eyes of so many Elves, especially since a Dwarf is involved in Arthinias' death? No, he never drew his knife. It would have been far easier for the...Gimli to have tossed the knife far downstream. To me, the greatest evidence that no dagger was drawn was no wound on Gimli's person. An Elf would have at least cut him." But upon the rest of the evidence, Thranduil had to agree. It could be bent in two directions, depending upon the interpretation. "What think you of the Dwarf?" asked Thranduil, curious to know what the responses would be.

The answer was at first astonished silence, until one almost hesitantly said, with the same tone of voice that one would use if someone asked you which color the sun was. "He is a dwarf."

Thranduil's brow rose, and then his other. He was beginning to feel the first stirrings of irritation at this automatic distrust between two species--and it startled him, for a few days ago he had participated in it himself. More than participated, he had encouraged it. The change puzzled him, but it had become too persistent to shrug it off like a passing mood. He began to see that Legolas had indeed learned much, and had much to teach Mirkwood. One single Dwarf, even if his quality of personality were the exception, had been enough to make him think. Thranduil asked his guards, "And how would you think, based on Gimli's actions, that he feels towards you?"

This now caused the deepest silence so far, for none of the guards had ever even spared one second of thought for this. Frankly, they did not in the least care how the dwarf felt, as long as he was soon gone from their view. Even more frankly, they had not paid much attention to the dwarf's reactions either - those two who had actually seen him. The others had caught no more than a glimpse, but all the more gossip. So, as the time stretch each hoped someone of the others would answer the question, but none did.

And so the rest of the ride to the Stronghold was made in silence, until they came within sight of the gates. "Speak to none, until I send for you. You will keep to your quarters. Tomorrow the evidence will be presented." He accepted their bows, and entered the gates, still incongruously carrying the fish, which he turned over to his own cooks in good time, although the fish were not to be prepared. They were to be put in a cool place and left just as they were.

Later, Thranduil sent his own personal guards down into the dungeons to replace all the guards there. But come an hour after midnight, he himself descended into the dungeons, and he carried with him bread and cheese and wine. He entered a clean room with a simple door. There was a table and chairs, and oil lamps, which he lit. Then he asked that Legolas be brought to him.

tbc..