CHAPTER 4. UNDER WATCHFUL EYE
It was just after dawn when Legolas and Gimli awoke, greeted by a chilled, biting morning air and a cold, rattling wind. They returned their things to their packs before exiting the cave, leaving behind the bare, cold rock such as they had found it.
Instantly, Legolas began to subtly survey the area outside for signs of disturbance. Arod was still tied securely to the tree where he had been left, and everything seemed in place. Peering up at the rocky slopes with sharp elven eyes, he almost expected to see more scouts spying down on them.
Yet nothing seemed to be a cause for alarm - there was no sign of anyone in that section of the mountains apart from the Elf and the Dwarf. Legolas was not reassured, however - he felt intensely uneasy as he and Gimli stood around, exposed and vulnerable. His companion's next comment did much to soothe his spirits.
"We should eat quickly, and begin our travels." the Dwarf suggested, grabbing their food stores out of his pack. "I wish to cover as much ground as possible today; if we ride with haste, we will make it to Edoras by nightfall. Then tomorrow we will be at Helm's Deep!"
Legolas agreed instantly: nothing would please him more than to be able to set off, away from the mountains that were causing him so very much discomfort.
They quickly ate their breakfast of lembas, the Elvish waybread with almost magical properties, before closing their packs and mounting their horse. Almost immediately Legolas began to lead Arod away from the mountains, a fact which did not go unnoticed by Gimli.
"Is there a problem?" he asked suspiciously.
"No, none." Legolas lied smoothly. "The horse will be less likely to tire on a flatter surface, that is all."
To Legolas' luck, the Dwarf's knowledge of horses was basically non-existent. He did not suspect that his friend's true motive was to move them both out of the range of an arrow, as opposed to making the journey easier on their steed.
"This wind is chilling me to the bone!" Gimli called suddenly, over the roar of the gale. "I feel as though I am once again trapped in a snowstorm at the pass of Caradhras!"
"It does seem cold." Legolas agreed, observing the frost-covered grass rolling beneath them.
"It seems cold?" Gimli spat in astonishment. "Ah, but of course, your kind to not feel the cold, do you?"
"Generally not, no." Legolas agreed, smirking. "Apparently we Elves are some deal stronger and hardier than you dwarves."
"Elves, stronger than Dwarves? I should think not." Gimli scoffed, but he did not utter a single complaint about the weather from then onwards.
Legolas rode with unparalleled prowess, and despite the burden of an unexperienced Dwarf they travelled far faster than the average Man could achieve. The miles of Gondor plains flew beneath their steed's hooves, once again with little discussion between the two comrades.
Gimli noted, quite happily, that Legolas did not seem as solemn as the day previous. This was mainly due to the fact that the Elf's thoughts were fixated on the more immediate danger of scout invasions, as opposed to the emotional one of Aragorn's disloyalty and insults. Indeed, if the matter had slipped his mind, it was still lurking about his subconscious, ready to be painfully recalled at the slightest prompt.
"So, Legolas, my fine, fair-faced friend, are you anticipating the Glittering Caves with suitable excitement yet?" Gimli queried, partially as a test to see if the Elf was still brooding, and also partially as a genuine inquiry.
Legolas laughed, continuing the act of feigned normality as not to alarm his comrade or make him suspect that anything was out of place. "Not as much as you are, my Dwarfish companion."
"I would expect not, no." Gimli agreed. "For a Dwarf is to the mountain what a gull is to the sea. They are inseparable entities: we are forever bound to delve and mine the rocky cavities of the caves."
"Indeed." Legolas mused absentmindedly. "But, if the Glittering Caves are as glorious as you perceive them, why then do you and your people not start a mine there?"
Gimli raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise.
"For a tree-dweller such as yourself, that is not a bad idea." he pondered thoughtfully. "It would make a mighty fortress for the Dwarves, of that there is no question."
"Led by the wise Dwarf-lord, Gimli son of Glóin, the caves would be glorious indeed!" Legolas said jokingly.
Gimli stroked his wild beard in serious deliberation.
"Gimli son of Glóin, Dwarf-lord of the Glittering Caves." he murmured, slowly but grandly. "The name has a certain ring to it, does it not?"
"Oh, yes, certainly." Legolas agreed quickly, struggling not to laugh. "It is a very elegant title indeed."
Gimli finally detected the Elf's sarcasm, and whacked him hard in the shoulder.
"Go on, laugh, you pointy-eared forest lover." he sniffed in mock dejection. "Aragorn would see the grandeur in it. You are far too arrogant to appreciate such things of a mere, humble Dwarf."
Legolas' laughter broke off suddenly, and his momentary happiness vanished in the blink of an eye. Gimli's words had made him once again revisit the dark memory of his bitter parting with the king, unbeknownst, of course, to the Dwarf.
To his surprise, Legolas found unintended meaning in his friend's words.
You are far too arrogant to appreciate such things of a mere, humble Dwarf.
Perhaps he was being arrogant in taking offense to Aragorn's words. Never before had the king shown intent to harm a friend, verbally or otherwise. What if Legolas himself was at fault? Could he have been too self-important, even to the extent of being haughty?
But that does not change what he said, not what he did, Legolas reminded himself firmly. He showed utter disregard towards me and my people. The spitefulness of that is not to be underestimated.
Legolas was in two minds, each with strong opinions that entirely contradicted each other. As a prince of his people, he could never allow them to be scorned and disdained like they had been. Yet at the same time, he wished more than anything that Aragorn had not intended to insult him, that his words were some horrible slight of tongue. Maybe Arwen had spoken the truth: "He meant not what he said. Aragorn would never disregard you or your kin, you know that.".
Did he know it, though?
Legolas knew that Aragorn had once had a close companionship with the elvish race. But now he was the King of Gondor - a king of Men. He knew not where Aragorn's allegiances would lie if the choice came between his bloodline and the Elvish people with whom he had grown up. It would be a severe conflict of loyalties, at the very least.
And still, it was not just the incident upon Legolas' departure that haunted him. He physically flinched as he relived the memory of the harsh words that had kept his nights sleepless, and the few dreams he had managed to be horrible nightmares.
"You are naught but a hindrance here; go back to your own people, and burden them with your stupidity."
Gimli peered at Legolas in concern, alarmed by his sudden silence and docility, and even more so by the sudden wince that had escaped him.
"Legolas, is something the matter?" he asked, not for the first (nor the last) time.
"No, no, not at all." the Elf replied, a little too quickly, and entirely unconvincingly. "I would like to reach the Edoras by nightfall, that is all."
And with that, Legolas spurred the horse on. They flew speedily across the open country, the deafening clatter of horseshoes blocking out the opportunity for further conversation.
~~~{###}~~~
Meanwhile, the King of Gondor sat in discussion with his Chief Steward.
"... and if we deploy a small force of craftsmen to the eastern gate, we can begin the reconstruction of the wall segment that was destroyed." Faramir was explaining, glancing at a scroll of parchment in reference. "But I thought to seek your approval before agreeing to such a project. My lord?"
Aragorn, who had been gazing pensively out of the window, snapped out of his thoughts suddenly.
"My apologies, Faramir. You were saying?" he queried, gazing at him with avid interest.
The Steward smiled understandingly. "I detect that your thoughts are otherwise occupied. Am I correct?"
"Yes, as usual." Aragorn sighed, dropping the act and slumping over in physical and emotional exhaustion. "You have a certain talent for reading me like an open book."
Faramir stared up at his king solemnly. "Perhaps there is some truth in that. Yet I see your pain, my lord. What ails you so?"
"It ails me not a fraction of what it must ail the true victim." Aragorn murmured in shame.
Anguished grief and regret stabbed at his chest like a thousand blades, tearing at his heart and mind. Once again, he revisited the guilt-ridden memories of his foolishly leaden tongue. The sight of Legolas' fair face, contorted with anger, shock, and worst of all, a distressed pain, flashed through his mind. He recalled, with uncanny precision, the look of agony in those sharp blue eyes, before his long blond hair whipped around as he left the chamber with the speed and grace of his Elvish kin.
I caused him that pain, Aragorn reminded himself. By my cruel accusations and crude words about his people, I have cast from the city my closest comrade.
"The true victim is one of the wisest beings in Middle-earth. He will understand your errors, and will be forgiving, I have no doubt of that." Faramir stated with certainty.
Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "You do not miss a thing that goes on in this city, do you, my friend?"
"Very little in Gondor goes unnoticed by me, my lord, if I may be so pretentious." he said with a small smile. "Which is why I am quite certain that Legolas will be empathetic. He knows you better than anyone, my lord, even better than I do. He will realize that your words were a mere error in judgement, and he will forgive you."
"I wish I could be as sure." Aragorn sighed weakly. "But I appreciate your sentiments. I only hope that they are accurate."
"Legolas knows that you are no longer a Ranger of the North. He is aware of your duties, and how you bear them alone, despite their weight. Things have changed between the two of you, and will continue to change as long as you remain King of Gondor. He must learn to accept that, and the consequences that come with it." Faramir replied, slowly and calmly. "Even if those consequences are that you can no longer make decisions for the approval of an ally that is weakening, instead of growing stronger."
"I do not want excuses for what I did." Aragorn spat angrily, more to himself than to the Steward. "There is no excuse for hurting a friend."
"Perhaps not, but if there ever was to be justification for harming a friend, it would be yours." Faramir said reasonably. "I do not think that even you yourself understand the weight of the responsibility that rests on your shoulders. You were under the pressure of the entire kingdom of Gondor, and you were forced to make a choice. You made the one that benefitted your people, your kin. You should not regret in that."
But Aragorn merely shook his head slowly in denial, and looked out over the dusky city as he spoke in a dead, hopeless tone.
"Nevertheless, when the time comes, I will beg for his forgiveness, and pray to the Valar that he accepts it. It would be far more than I deserve."