CHAPTER 5. MEDUSELD
The sun was shining with a dull, dusky glow when Legolas and Gimli's horse finally pulled up outside the wall of Edoras.
The Elf slowed their horse to a trot as they approached the gateway. The wooden gates were opened wide as if in welcome, though guards still patrolled the city wall watchfully. They passed through the archway, their speed slowed to a walking pace. A soldier at his post bowed at the horse's riders, eyes wide in recognition of the heroes that had helped save his city and his people. Legolas inclined his head respectfully, eyes bright and cheerful now that they were safely within the city's perimeters.
They wound their way up the hill to where the king's halls lay, under the roof of Meduseld, the great golden halls of Rohan. They were greeted with familiarity by the guards, many of whom Legolas recognized to have once been cavalry soldiers under Éomer's lead.
Legolas dismounted, and offered a hand to Gimli, who shook his head firmly.
"I can manage to get off a horse without help." he said gruffly, though his actions appeared to contrast his statement as he swung off the saddle and fell to the ground, landing on his feet but with a precarious wobble. Legolas fought to restrain himself, but was forced to mask his laughter with poorly feigned coughing, earning himself a dark look from the Dwarf.
This he ignored, as his attention was diverted to an approaching stableboy. Legolas handed him Arod's reins with a note of thanks, before striding forwards and up the steps leading to Meduseld. As he reached the top, he glanced around, taking in the wide views.
It was barely recognizable as the same city Legolas had visited during the war. The streets, once grey and solemn, were bright, and filled with the bustle and trade of a prosperous kingdom. The townspeople showed obvious contentment, and their generally celebratory spirit was similar to that of the people in Minas Tirith. Even the wildflowers on the plains in the distance seemed to bloom in rejoice, beneath the cloudless blue sky.
"My lords, welcome to Edoras." a door warden greeted breathlessly, returning the Elf's focus to the city. "The king will be overjoyed to welcome you again to his halls."
"The pleasure will be ours." Legolas replied with a warm smile.
"Aye, unless you wish to rob us of our weaponry again, as in our last peaceful visit." Gimli interjected gruffly.
Legolas glared angrily at the Dwarf, scorning his bluntness, but the door warden merely laughed sympathetically. "I have heard that tale many a time, I assure you. Nay, your weapons are yours to keep, Gimli son of Glòin. You are both heroes to the people of Rohan, and may enter our halls bearing whatever you wish."
"Excellent." Gimli barked, beard twitching in amusement as the warden admitted them into the palace.
Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor as they entered the vast hall. The tapestry-covered walls basked in sunlight, illuminating the histories and legends of the Rohirrim. At the end of the room stood a throne, artfully carved with characteristic Rohan designs, and seated upon which was the lord of the kingdom.
"Greetings, my friends!" called the man, standing, his arms wide in welcome.
"Éomer." Legolas replied, striding gracefully to meet the King of Rohan, a tranquil smile on his fair face.
"Legolas! How fare you, my Elvish comrade-in-arms? We have missed you in our ranks, my friend." Éomer stated cheerfully, blue eyes alight.
"I fare well." he responded briefly, and not entirely truthfully. "As do you, unless my eyes deceive me. The kingship suits you, if I may be permitted to say so."
"I offer my thanks, though I am doubtful of the truthfulness of your words." Éomer laughed, indicating his richly embroidered robes in discomfort. "It is far cry from being a rider in the king's armies."
"Perhaps, and yet the change is not unbecoming." Legolas replied flatteringly. "Your appearance is as much of a king as your words, and that is a welcome thought."
"Oh, enough of this formality. One would think you two were mere acquaintances, instead of comrades and allies!" Gimli grumbled, pushing Legolas aside and embracing Éomer roughly. "It is good to see you again, my friend."
"And you, Master Gimli." Éomer replied, exchanging a look of mingled surprise and amusement with Legolas as Gimli released him from his grasp. "But I am a poor host, for I had forgotten of your long, tiring journey! Come, and you may dine and rest your legs, and we can discuss all things which have occurred since our companies were separated."
Gimli and Legolas followed him into a nearby hall, where soon servants came bearing food and drink for the king's guests. They ate the Rohan fare gratefully, especially on Gimli, who was already growing tired of lembas.
"So what is news in Minas Tirith? It was my impression that you had both remained in the city for the last few weeks." Éomer asked conversationally, once his guests had taken all they wished of the fare.
"Aye, that is correct." Gimli agreed, pausing to take a swig from his goblet before continuing. "We have remained in Gondor to assist with the rebuilding of the kingdom, at Aragorn's bidding."
"Ah, and how is Aragorn?" Éomer queried jovially. "He is another soldier the Rohan armies have missed dearly!"
"He is well." Gimli announced briefly, returning to his goblet and appearing to make no attempt to elaborate further.
Éomer turned to Legolas with a questioning glare. Legolas fought to keep his face straight, before forcing a smile.
"Aragorn is well, as Gimli said." he lied, his voice one of would-be nonchalance. "He is busy, of course, extremely busy with rebuilding the city's battlements, but there is no better candidate for such a role."
He smiled forecfully again, hoping that his eyes would not betray him. Éomer surveyed him with a doubtful glance, eyebrows raised.
"You are a poor liar, Legolas of Mirkwood." he commented finally, picking up his goblet and taking a pensive sip. "However, I shall question you not, for it is not my place."
"Perhaps not, but it is mine." Gimli stated gruffly. "I knew not of any quarrels between you and Aragorn, but it is apparent that all is not well with you, nor with the King of Gondor!"
"If I tell you of it not, then it is my wish, and you would do well to comply with it." Legolas replied vacantly, his face blank and expressionless.
"Do not force me to extract an answer from you." Gimli growled threateningly. "We Dwarves are quick to anger."
"Yet Elves are strong in their silence," Legolas retorted firmly, blue eyes steely with resolve. "and will bend not to the will of any being, be they Man or Dwarf."
Gimli grumbled with displeasure, casting the Elf an angry glare.
"My friends, I am sorry I brought about such a topic! Let us move on." Éomer said hastily, scrambling to change the subject. "Tell me - what news have you heard of your own people?"
"Little," Gimli replied, his angry glare turning to a neutral expression as he directed the answer to Éomer. "but enough to know that all is well. This war was a war of Men, not of Dwarves, and we had little to do with it."
"That is all as well, really." Éomer stated, nodding solemnly. "What of you, Legolas?"
"I... I have heard not from my kin in Mirkwood since I embarked on the Quest." he replied reluctantly, turning his face away as if in shame. "I know not of how they fare."
"Indeed?" Éomer mused, eyebrows raised again.
"I knew not of this, either!" Gimli stated, glaring accusingly at the Elf. "What more do you hide from me?"
"Nothing, my dear Gimli. It is merely that few of my people travel outside the woodland realm, and even less are to be found so far south." Legolas replied, sufficing with a partial answer to satisfy the Dwarf.
It is somewhat true, Legolas thought in justification. Elves from Mirkwood seldom wander into the southern realms of Men. It matters not that there may be other reasons I have not heard from my kin.
Gimli shrugged, apparently content with the legitimacy of his answer. "I suppose that is true. We Dwarves are scarcely known to travel outside our own borders. We prefer to remain inside our halls, where there is stone to be mined and ale to be drunk!"
"Aye, I will agree to that!" Éomer stated, banging his goblet against the the Dwarf's cheerfully. "Ale and pipeweed, and we shall be happier than a Halfling with a basket of mushrooms!"
"Ah, a Man after my own heart!" Gimli growled fondly, chuckling deeply.
Legolas shook his head, frowning slightly. "No amount of time spent with Men, Dwarves and Hobbits will ever enlighten me about the attraction of pipeweed."
"Alas, I had forgotten - your people do not smoke the mighty leaf, do they?" Éomer mused.
"Nay, we do not, nor can I see the pleasure in such a pastime." Legolas replied, with a hint of condescension.
"Now, Master Elf, speak not of that which you know not." Gimli scolded. "For all their supposed wisdom and superiority, Elves have enormous gaps in their knowledge. Primarily, pipeweed!"
"Is that so?" Legolas queried, laughing along with Éomer. Gimli held a scornful expression momentarily, before bursting into booming chuckled that reverberated off the chamber walls.
"Ah, my friends, I am glad of your company." Éomer announced, sighing happily. "Though I do not think I have asked: what brings you to Rohan? You are far from Minas Tirith."
"Indeed, for our travels are beyond the kingdom of Gondor." Legolas agreed. "We have wish to visit Helm's Deep, if the lord of those lands would allow it."
"Of course. You have free passage within Rohan." Éomer replied instantly, an expression of bewilderment on his face. "Yet I do not understand what you would visit the fortress for; there is naught but crumbling battlements there, and the ruins of war."
"You forget, Lord Éomer, about the Glittering Caves." Gimli interjected, with a significant look at the king.
Éomer's eyes widened in realization, and he smiled widely. "Ah, you seek the caves? And so it comes to pass that an Elf travels across the kingdoms of Men, to seek out a Dwarf's treasure. How strange it seems!"
"Aye, when phrased in that manner, it sounds like a foolish mission indeed." Legolas agreed, laughing lightly. "But we do not travel all this way to see merely caves. I have wish to explore the forests of Fangorn."
Éomer's face darkened with apprehension. "Fangorn Forest? There are dark tidings of those woods. I would not counsel you to journey thither."
"Yet, though I wish not to disregard your counsel, it is my strong desire to proceed thus." Legolas replied, firmly but with cautious courtesy. "Though my many years have seen defeats and triumphs more numerous than by any of the race of Men, never in my travels have I observed trees the like of those in Fangorn. Indeed, my desire to explore them was so great that it almost tore me from my duty during the Quest; I mourned departing those woods, and my heart will not rest until I see them again."
"You are firm in mindset, and I will not attempt to persuade you from your path." Éomer said wisely. "I will merely bid you caution upon your chosen road, and hope that you will fare well upon it."
"We shall take your bidding gratefully, and your hope also." Legolas countered gratefully. "Though the hour is late, and we ride off at dawn; we had best take leave and rest for our travels."
"Certainly, certainly." Éomer murmured, rising from his seat. "My people will show you to your chambers, where you may rest at ease, for darkness abides no longer in the halls of Meduseld."
Legolas and Gimli thanked their host, before being lead to nearby guestrooms, where beds were already prepared for them both. A sudden weariness overcame them, and they sank onto the covers, their sleep deep and unhindered.
~~~{###}~~~
Legolas was awoken by the first piercing rays of Rohan sunlight through the windows of their chamber. He forced his eyes open, stretching the sleep from his graceful limbs.
"Gimli? Awake, my friend. It is daybreak, and we have many miles before us." Legolas called softly to the Dwarf, who lay sprawled on the bed beside him.
He slowly sat upright, his eyes falling upon the Elf with a sour glare. Legolas raised his eyebrows questioningly, but fell silent, allowing his friend to wake properly before judging him on his sudden and seemingly mirthless disposition.
They collected their packs in tense silence, and departed the halls of Meduseld to the courtyard below. Legolas disappeared momentarily, returning from the stables with Arod.
"Are we ready to go, my friend?" Legolas asked courteously, adjusting the saddle slightly.
"Nay, I am not." Gimli returned brusquely.
Legolas frowned slightly in confusion, turning to face the Dwarf with eyes full of questioning. "Whyever not?"
"Last night's discussion with Éomer enlightened to me several matters of secrecy to which I had been oblivious." Gimli stated. "I had noticed not of your disputes with Aragorn. I held my tongue in front of Éomer, but now I wish to know the circumstances of our departure from Minas Tirith, in their entirety. What was the nature of your disagreement?"
Legolas shook his head. "There are many matters in which I do not divulge their entirety upon you, or indeed anyone, and it is largely with reason that I do so."
"I refuse to travel with one who would leave me questioning, clueless about anything but what my own eyes befall!" Gimli growled angrily.
"Yet that is the nature of traveling with an Elf." Legolas replied calmly. "There are differences aplenty between our people, and this is perhaps the largest. There can be no knowing for you, a child in the eyes of my people, all that I have seen, and all that I have known. We are not an outgoing people, Gimli; we do not boast of our triumphs, yet nor are we open about matters close to our hearts. I beg of you to accept that."
"And if I cannot?" Gimli countered, arms folded across his chest stubbornly.
"Then I would say you are acting like a child in fey mood!" Legolas replied snappily, brow creased deeply.
"Now at least something is revealed to me - I see at last the usual contempt for my people that the Elves usually portray!" Gimli snarled, turning away.
Legolas' anger fell from his face in a moment, replaced by a look of mingled regret and anguish.
"I do not contempt your people." he murmured softly. "Nor would you be able to understand the lengths I have gone to in order to protect them."
Gimli spun back around, frowning deeply. "Protect them? You-"
"Aye, but now is not the time for that tale, for it is a long one, with many facets. But let me vow to you that you will hear it soon, and you will understand." Legolas promised.
"Will I also understand about Aragorn?" Gimli asked eagerly.
Legolas shrank slightly, unnoticeably to any but the keen sight of his own kindred, his eyes swimming with torment.
"Perhaps." he lied vaguely. "But first we must ride. If you keep asking me all these questions, it will be noon before we depart!"
He leapt nimbly up onto the saddle, hauling the Dwarf on behind him. Murmuring gently to Arod in his natural tongue, he directed the horse forwards without the need for physical commands.
"That is unnatural." Gimli stated, glaring at the horse apprehensively.
"I know not what you mean." Legolas responded, bewildered, as Arod descended the hill down to the city gate.
"The horse - it understands you!" Gimli spluttered. "It obeys your commands, vocal commands, mind you, yet the animal was trained in Rohan, where your tongue has not been heard for an age!"
"Arod is intelligent." Legolas replied simply, shrugging lightly. "He comes from a strong line of steeds, and thus possesses qualities that his kind usually do not."
Gimli shook his head doubtfully. "Nay, that is not the answer. It is Elf-magic!"
"Magic?" Legolas repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I possess no magic. I am not one of the Istari."
"There are tales of Elf-magic laced throughout the histories." Gimli said, a note of excitement in his voice. "The ability to heal, to protect, to persuade..."
"Tales, Gimli." Legolas replied pointedly. "Besides, what is the definition of magic? Surely those who can perform such tasks would deem them as natural, and they would only be viewed as 'magical' by one who does not possess the same ability."
"Perhaps that is so, but directing animals merely by tongue is certainly unnatural." Gimli stated stubbornly.
"On the contrary, it is entirely natural. Or, at least it is to those of my kindred." Legolas said thoughtfully.
"Yet did Lady Galadriel herself not once speak of the magic of Elves? She was able to guard the realm of Lorién from evil, without a single soldier to patrol it's borders. Surely that must be counted as magic!" Gimli returned incredulously.
"Galadriel is one of the High Elves. She was not born in Middle-earth, but in Valinor, across the sea to the west. She is an exception to many rules that apply to the Elves." Legolas informed him. "Few alike her have walked these lands."
"Ah! So there is magic among your people!" Gimli barked in satisfaction.
Legolas laughed wearily, as they passed under the city gate and out onto the open plains of Rohan. "I suppose there is... to a degree. But come, enough debate. We have caves to see, do we not?"
The Elf spurred Arod into action, and his hooves pounded across the grassland forcefully. Gimli spluttered with disapproval as he struggled to remain on the horse's back. Legolas, on the other hand, breathed in the open air gratefully, relieved at the halt in conversation. He had never been one for much talking, and especially not about himself. The presence of Gimli forced him into almost continual chatter, which constantly bent to the verge of being forced to divulge more than he wanted. Indeed, in the last day he had spoken both of his quarrels with Aragorn and the strained nature of his relationship with his kindred, and said much more of the two subjects than he would have liked.
One would think that centuries of withheld secrets would make the practice easier, Legolas mused. And yet when truthfulness is as innate to your kindred as drawing breath, it is a constant struggle, no matter the frequency with which it is performed.
He allowed his mind to slip blank, forcing himself to focus on steady hoofbeats below him instead of the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his head.