XII
Truce
Elrond gestured for them to be seated but he walked toward the open view of the waterfalls that fell past his chamber. The spray of the falls could be tasted in the air, moist and cool. The chatter of the water made a constant singing around them.
Elrond was silent for some time, staring out of the window. Gimli and Legolas glanced at each other. For some reason, both had a feeling this was not going to be as simple as first they thought. When Elrond began to speak at last, both started as if stung.
"The world is in great danger, though my saying so does not surprise either of you. Your homes have long been besieged by the Shadows, and ever have you continued your fight, though aid and allies have become few." Elrond crossed the room and sat down. His long face was seamless and ageless as the sky. Gimli wondered if he had always looked so. In the Hall of Fire he had seen Elrond smile—had even heard him sing—but always about him there was a brooding air.
Gimli shook himself slightly, attending to Elrond who was now speaking again. "Now that the Enemy has moved openly against us, we can best protect our lands by returning and aiding in the defenses. However, this quest is our best hope, and also our last hope. All the strength of arms and arrows in Erebor and Mirkwood are not enough to stem the tide. We are all threatened. Together we must try to preserve our folk and lands until the quest can be achieved or fail utterly."
"Lord Elrond, can you not see any hope?" Legolas asked, shaken to his heart. Always he had heard of the wisdom and foresight of the Half-elven lord. That Elrond could not tell what would happen scared the wood-elf as he had not been frightened since his childhood.
"All I see is hope, Thranduilion. But I cannot see the ending of this, nor beyond. I know that this attempt must be made, and I feel," Elrond paused to stress the word, "that Frodo Baggins is our only hope. He was chosen for this burden, by powers higher and mightier than the Wise can know. It is our duty to aid him however we can, with hope or without, to see him safely along his road as far as can be. For that purpose, I plan to choose companions to accompany him on his journey. The number will be small, for the company must travel swiftly. There will be need of skill and of strength and courage. Each race should be represented, to demonstrate that this is a cumulation of the efforts of the Free Peoples." Legolas and Gimli both raised their heads, eager to be included in this number. But Elrond glowered at them, and both felt a fear that they were not considered worthy.
"I do not know that you two are the best suited for this endeavour. You are both accomplished warriors and your loyalty and honour cannot be doubted. But your personal conflict will endanger this quest. I cannot countenance any risk to Frodo's success by saddling him with two quarreling companions. His burden is heavy enough, and it will grow heavier."
"My lord Elrond!" burst out Gimli, rising to his feet. "I swear to you I will serve Frodo well! I will let nothing interfere with protecting him and seeing this task done. I swear it on my life, and the honour of my family!"
"I, too, do swear," announced Legolas, also rising. "Any petty differences that this dwarf and I have aired shall not be weighted upon me. I shall cast them aside, and be set to my purpose. I will offer my woodcraft and weapon-skills to Frodo, to further his success."
Elrond looked at them both, standing flushed and earnest before him. He motioned for them to be seated again. He seemed unmoved by their display, resolved to deny their commitment.
Legolas wondered how he could return home if he failed now. At his father's side he would fight, until the Shadows devoured the forest at last, and his shame would never die, even then.
Gimli felt desperation rising inside his heart. Who could go in his stead? Who was better trained, young enough to endure and strong enough to persevere? He could not be found lacking now, after all that he had endured to come to this point. Was this some elvish plot to cut the dwarves out of the glory to be had if this war was won? These words rang hollow inside his head, and tasted bitter, and Gimli rejected it even as he thought it. He took a deep breath and waited, ready to demonstrate whatever skill or task that Elrond might suggest to prove his worthiness.
After a time of watching their faces, Elrond rose and motioned for them to depart. "Time we have in small amount, but some time still we must wait. Scouts must return and their reporting be heard before any final decisions can be made. I suggest you use this time wisely. Resolve your differences or at least come to terms that will allow cooperation. I will give you this time to prove to me that you are suitable for this quest. I will let you know my decision." And they were dismissed.
Gimli and Legolas walked down the corridor, each lost within his own thoughts. At their side walked the obstacle that barred their way to a desired responsibility. Neither could find words to begin their compromise.
After a long while, they came to the end of the corridor in a garden. The river flowed away nearby, and further along opened a mead where had fallen a tree, aged past renewal. It stooped over the ruin of its shadow, now a home for birds and beetles, its limbs cut for wood and carved for tools. Long after the hour of its death, still it served.
Gimli broke the silence first. "I don't suppose you would consider withdrawing your request to join the company?"
"You are wiser than you look," answered Legolas bitingly, swiftly regretting his words as the passed his lips. "Forgive me… this is not easy for me, either. We must find some way to come to an agreement, so that we can work together. If we cannot, then neither of us shall go, and perhaps Frodo will suffer for our foolishness."
Gimli's ire died in ashes. He stooped and picked up a sharp stone from the path. To release his anger and frustration, he flung the stone at the dead tree and was rewarded with a solid thunk as the missile struck the bole, sending the birds spiraling in alarm. This gave him an idea.
"Once we intended to prove to each other our skill. Let us continue our debate."
"I will not quarrel with thee, son of Glóin," said Legolas. "Heard you not Lord Elrond's words?"
"I have heard them. He said we need to find a respect for one another. I propose that we do so. There is no need to shed blood nor exchange harsh words. Let us have a contest." Leaning up against the woodpile near the dead tree was an axe. Gimli picked it up and tested the edge with a thumb.
"What do you propose that will not get us evicted from Rivendell?" asked Legolas, eyeing the Dwarf nervously. He did not doubt he could outrun him, but turning his back on a dwarf with an axe was something he did not want to do.
"You do something that I cannot do, and I shall do something that you cannot do. Thus we will prove our usefulness to each other, and show Lord Elrond that our differences are also our strengths." Gimli tested the strength of the axe-handle in his big hands. "You go first, son of Thranduil."
"I think a good beginning would be for us to use each other's correct names," commented Legolas dryly.
"Very well, Legolas. What can an Elf do that a Dwarf cannot?"
Legolas's lips bent in a smile. "Well, I have never seen a Dwarf do this…" and he ran swiftly like an arrow from a bolt, to the dead tree and up its smooth barkless bole. With a great leap he sprang to a nearby tree and ran lightly along its upper branches, stirring barely a leaf in his passage.
"Very good!" Gimli said as Legolas returned, landing lightly at his side without a sound of leaf or twig rustling. "You are swift and silent, and if we ever need apples from the top of the tree, you shall be chosen to harvest them!"
"Show me what a Dwarf can do that an Elf cannot, Gimli. This is the riddle that I cannot solve now."
"Not much, I am sure," said Gimli as he walked toward the dead tree, still a tall and solid growth. He was swinging the axe, testing the balance of the head. He stopped and faced the bare trunk. "This only, maybe…" and he swung the axe in a great over-handed grip and hewed the ancient wood with a great—thock!!—that shook the birds from the boughs of nearby trees. The tree split from root to broken head and fell separately, cloven in one swing by the Dwarf's mighty arms.
Legolas was impressed. "That I cannot do, Gimli. You are strong indeed."
"Then perhaps we both have something to offer this quest, even as different as we are?" Gimli sat down on one half of the split tree, turning to face his Elf. "Our trial is not over, but this is a good beginning. In the time we have, let us prepare for our quest. It must be that Elrond finds us suitable. I will not waste what may be my last hours with my father trading japes and insults with you. Go and spend time with your people and forget not your skills. There will be much need for them in the days ahead."
"My people will be away soon, returning to my father's kingdom," answered Legolas with some sadness. "Here I am as much a stranger as you. But do not fear; if I have not forgotten my skills in two thousand years, two weeks shall not cloud my mind."
They parted in that garden, separated as the halves of the lifeless tree. Above their heads, leaning against the rail which encircled his turret, Elrond looked on with a wry smile.
