CHAPTER 7. OF ELVES AND DWARVES
"Aaaaah!"
Legolas' eyes flew open at the sudden cry of distress from beside him. His hands reached immediately for his bow, which lay ready beside his bed. He leapt agilely to his feet, whipping an arrow out of his quiver and aiming it as he spun around.
"What in the name of Eru are you doing?" Gimli spluttered in alarm, finding himself at the end of a poised arrow and jumping backwards a few feet.
Legolas lowered his bow, frowning in puzzlement.
"I heard you yelling." he answered blankly, brow furrowed as he glared at the Dwarf accusingly.
"That's because I woke up to find this blasted horse," Gimli spat, pointing to the animal, which was standing a short distance from the Dwarf. "Sniffing around my face!"
Legolas sighed, setting his bow down on the floor. He stepped across to Arod, and placed a hand on the horse's muzzle, stroking its white coat with a slight smirk.
"I thought you were being attacked." he commented, directing an amused expression at the Dwarf, who returned it with a very displeased glare.
"You know I hate animals." Gimli said defensively. "As for this beast-"
"That 'beast' is one of the finest steeds in Gondor. You will recall, no doubt, that Arod was a gift from Eomer; he was trained by the horsemen of Rohan." Legolas stated, smirking. "But do not fret. It is a good thing you were awoken; I am eager to explore these caves."
"You should be." grumbled Gimli, recovering somewhat yet still appearing unnerved.
Legolas retrieved two servings of lembas from their packs, and handed one to the Dwarf. He stripped off the mallorn leaf immediately and stuffed the portion of waybread into his mouth, watching the horse suspiciously as he chewed.
Legolas suppressed his laughter, not wishing to anger Gimli any more than he already was, and diverted his attention to the cavern around them. His sharp Elvish eyes surveyed the massive space with warm curiosity. The dark, rocky walls were familiar, though it took him a moment to recall why.
"These caves are much alike the Halls of Thranduil." he commented in surprise.
Gimli stopped chewing, and frowned deeply. "Thranduil? Isn't he-"
"Aye, my father." Legolas affirmed, still glancing around the cavern.
"If he is an Elf, then why does he have caves?" Gimli questioned.
Legolas laughed openly, his fair voice ringing through the space. "You, Master Gimli, seem to picture my kin as tree-dwelling nomads, wandering through the forests without aim nor consequence. I would have you know that the Mirkwood realm has many a network of caves and tunnels. There are Elven halls that would rival those of your people, I have no doubt, though I admit my knowledge of Dwarfish cities is limited."
"Elves, in caves? Never have I heard a stranger suggestion." Gimli scoffed.
"It is more than a mere suggestion. It is fact!" Legolas replied, eyes wide in surprise. "Have you never heard of the caves of Menegroth?"
"Do you take me for a fool, Legolas Greenleaf?" Gimli scoffed. "Those caves were made by my forefathers. They are the most famous creation of the Dwarfish people, aside from the mines of Moria."
"I take you not for a fool, dear Gimli, but for a somewhat uneducated Dwarf. Do not forget that Menegroth was of Elvish make. Dwarves were employed in the construction, for they had more experience in building underground, but the design was distinctly of the Eldar, the noble Elves of the First Age." Legolas stated correctingly.
"A minor detail." Gimli retorted dismissively.
Legolas held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "But regardless of their maker, the Halls of Thranduil were built in imitation of Menegroth. Below the hills of Mirkwood lies a labyrinth of tunnels, weaving deep into the ground. There are high, columned ceilings, not unlike those of Moria, and yes, they are filled with Elves of the woodland realm."
"Woodland Elves, living in caves." Gimli repeated, shaking his head in a somewhat awestruck manner. "It sounds to me as foolish as hobbits taking refuge in birds' nests!"
"Perhaps so, but it was not entirely of our choosing." Legolas uttered softly, with a somber smile.
"Not of your choosing?" Gimli repeated in confusion. "How would the habitation of caves be against your choosing, if Elves were their creators?"
"At the beginning of this age, before even I was born, the forests of Mirkwood were taken over by a shadowy presence. Places that were once beautiful became became dark and dangerous, and evil creatures took over the woods that the Elves had called home for centuries." Legolas murmured, face downcast in sadness brought about by the recollection of painful memories. "The cause of this shadow was the Necromancer, a dark sorcerer whose fortress lay in the south of Mirkwood. The fortress was called Dol Guldur, and the Necromancer was-"
"Sauron!" Gimli gasped. "This is a time in history that I am familiar with!"
Legolas raised his eyebrows. "What do you know of Dol Guldur?"
"Thràin II, holder of the last of the seven rings given to the Dwarf-lords, was taken into the fortress of Dol Guldur by Sauron, and imprisoned there until his death several years later." Gimli recited. "It is a well-known tale amongst my race, and the name of Dol Guldur still holds a shadowy place among the Dwarfish people."
"I can imagine; I had forgotten that the Dwarves, too, had a place in this story. For the most part it is a tale of the sorrows of Men, and of Elves. Indeed, it was the last instance where unity existed between these races, and those of Dwarves, also." Legolas stated pensively.
"I knew not of this alliance." Gimli said in surprise. "Never have I heard of Elves and Dwarves fighting their battles together!"
"They did not fight together." Legolas replied distantly. "The Elves fought their behalf."
Gimli gaped at the fair Elven face, and such was his confusion that Legolas felt the need to continue without prompt.
"By the time Thràin II was taken into Dol Guldor, hundreds of years had passed in Mirkwood. The Elves had been unable to destroy Sauron's fortress, and the darkness had spread through much of the forest. Yet we were not the only race with struggles." Legolas murmured in quiet explanation. "The Lonely Mountain had just been attacked by the dragon, Smaug, and your people were left dead, or else scattered. No army of Dwarves was left to reclaim Thràin, and so a battalion of Elves were sent from Mirkwood to reclaim him on their behalf."
"You are illustrating falsehoods!" Gimli spluttered angrily. "No battalion was sent forth from Mirkwood to rescue a Dwarf. Their king is Thranduil, and he despises my race!"
"Nay, my father is not fond of your kind. In fact, his resentment for your kindred runs very deep." Legolas admitted. "But there were those in Mirkwood who believed that we had a responsibility, for the sake of ancient allegiances with the Dwarves, to attempt to help him."
"Who? What Elf would think such a thing?" Gimli asked tauntingly.
"It was I." Legolas replied softly, diverting his eyes as though shameful. "I requested of my father that we lead a siege on Dol Guldur."
Gimli's jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged in shock. "You? How is it possible?"
"Remember, I had walked the lands of Middle-earth for hundreds of years before you were born, and will continue on indefinitely when you and your people fade from this earth. I was a mere century old, an Elfling by all common terms, but I had heard much of the conflict further south." Legolas uttered, his voice little more than a whisper. "My father, Thranduil, was not king at the time; his father, and my grandsire, Oropher, ruled the Greenwood. Oropher had equal distaste for the Dwarves as my father did, but I begged of him that we do something to help Thràin. Eventually, he listened."
"So you persuaded him to send troops to Dol Guldur?" Gimli asked incredulously.
"There were other forces at play; there was the danger that Sauron might attack our people, or else destroy more of the forest. But yes, for the most part, I was responsible." Legolas answered, his tone saddened for reasons the Dwarf could not comprehend.
"You were responsible? You make the gesture sound like one of cruelty, instead of kindness!" Gimli exclaimed. "Why does this sorrow you so?"
"I have not the heart to tell you, Gimli son of Glóin, for never again would you see me in the same light as you do now." Legolas replied, with a cold burst of laughter. "Nay, I have faced judgement enough. I do not need yours to add to my regret."
Gimli began to argue, but Legolas interrupted immediately.
"It is my burden to bear, and bear it I will!" he snapped, his face filled with cold fury, mingled with sorrow. "Now, is it your wish to examine these caves or not?"
Gimli was taken aback at the sudden outburst of anger, the likes of which he had never seen from his friend. The Elf's every fibre radiated with a dangerous fury, his eyes glowing fiercely with rage, and the Dwarf instinctively jumped back a few feet to escape his wrath.
Yet, as soon as it had come, Legolas' anger vanished. He frowned in puzzlement at Gimli's fearful expression, before he realized suddenly the cause of the Dwarf's fright. His shoulders slumped in shame, and his fair face was laden with horror.
"I am so sorry, my friend. Forgive me of my outburst." he murmured apologetically, blue eyes wide with pain and remorse.
"Forgive me, first, of my nosiness. It was not my place to inquire about your past." Gimli replied quietly.
"I blame you not in the slightest." Legolas said immediately.
"Then we have no quarrels." Gimli returned, a slight grin appearing beneath his unkempt beard.
The cheerful spark return to Legolas' eyes, his face unburdened and fair as ever it had appeared before. "I am overjoyed to hear it. Now, if you would do me the honor, I would much like to see these caves in their entirety."
"Nothing would please me more." Gimli agreed, getting to his feet with a grunt.
He stowed his blankets and supplies from overnight away into his pack, whilst Legolas fetched the horse, and trailed after him out into the branching network of tunnels. The Dwarf hummed cheerfully as he marched onwards through the rocky caverns, acting as though naught had hindered them, and not a sour word passed either of their lips.
I am lucky to have a friend of this nature, Legolas thought fondly. Luckier than I deserve, as he would know if all were revealed to him of my past.
But Gimli's pace was fast, and did not allow the Elf time to ponder his thoughts as they set off through the caves, the Dwarf appearing for all the world as cheerful and unburdened as anyone could be.
~~~{###}~~~
As night fell over the White City, the King of Gondor's discomfort increased with every passing minute.
Aragorn paced his chambers anxiously, his echoing footsteps filling the silent void in the room. The days that had passed since Legolas' departure had been filled with unease, with guilt gnawing at his conscience. He had hoped that the feeling would fade, but his yearning to follow after his friend had only increased as time passed.
At Arwen's request, he had stayed in Minas Tirith, though his heart screamed against every moment he spent idle in the city whilst his comrade put more miles between them. It was not the first time they had been apart since the Quest, for his duties as king had often carried Aragorn away for weeks at a time. This time, though, the circumstances were entirely different; not only were they apart physically, but emotionally they had never felt so distant.
But the restlessness tore at him, his heart and mind occupied by the image of a Wood Elf's deep blue eyes, filled with agony and the sting of betrayal.
I cannot allow him to endure that, Aragorn thought firmly. If I cannot erase the damage my words have inflicted, then I owe him at least my remorse. I must speak with him, face-to-face, and attempt to resolve some of what I have done... for the sake of us both.
His face hardened with steely resolve, and as soon as the opportunity arose he exited away from a discussion with the Captain of the Guard of the Citadel, sliding subtly away to his private chambers. There, he hastily stowed food and other necessities into a pack, before changing into clothes similar to those he had worn as a Ranger of the North - clothing made for travel. As an afterthought, he scribbled a note of explanation to Arwen, wincing as he imagined her reaction when she discovered what he had done.
Aragorn slunk down the staircase to the main courtyard, glancing around suspiciously, before crossing the cobblestone with carefully muted footsteps. His eyes fell onto the White Tree, the symbol of his kingship, and he paused with momentary hesitation as he considered his actions, before he straightened up resolutely and continued down to the stables.
Quietly slipping into the empty space, he located his horse, Hasufel, the steed he had ridden for much of the War of the Ring. He rushed to his side, placing a hand on his muzzle and stroking the dark coat pensively, considering the impact his actions might have.
"My lord?" Faramir inquired gently, appearing at the doorway and snapping the king from his thoughts.
"Ah, Faramir, come in." he replied hastily, spinning on his heel to face the man. "Is there a problem?"
"None, my lord. I merely wished to check upon you before tonight's counsel." Faramir responded, glancing at both the king's attire and location with confusion.
"Counsel?" Aragorn said blankly, his hand dropping from Hasufel's muzzle. "To which counsel do you refer?"
"The dignitaries from the north-west, my lord." he stated, brow furrowed.
"Oh Eru, I had forgotten entirely about the meeting." Aragorn groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead in frustration. "I was occupied by my thoughts, and the matter slipped my mind. When are they due to arrive?"
"Tonight, my lord. Any moment, I would assume." Faramir answered. "But Elessar, your clothes, and your pack... Were you intending to flee?"
Aragorn turned away shamefully.
"Flee is not the word I would use, for it is not from someone I run, but to." he murmured, running a hand along Hasufel absentmindedly.
"Is it not fleeing when a king deserts his city, without reason nor explanation?" Faramir stated in exasperation. "My lord, I know that you yearn to follow Legolas, but your duty is here-"
"How long will my duty leave me trapped inside the city like a bird in cage?" Aragorn exploded in anger and frustration, spinning around to face the Steward. "Must my duties always prevent me from doing what my heart desires? For how long must I disregard and ignore companions that have long proven themselves to be far more honorable than I?"
"You are no less honorable, my lord, despite the consequences of the decisions you have made. Your benefit to Gondor, and to Middle-earth, far outweighs the disservices you have performed." Faramir responded. When Aragorn made a noise of disagreement, he continued, "As for your duties barring your true desires... well, they do not. For your duties are to your heart also, in your love for the people of Gondor. You cannot please every resident of Middle-earth, Elessar-"
"I should at least be able appreciate and respect the wishes of those to whom I am closest." Aragorn cut in. "If I cannot provide that of those I hold dearest, then how can I be expected to do so for those that I have never even met?"
"The questions that you ask of me do not have simple answers." Faramir sighed. "And I have not the authority to prevent you from riding after Legolas, so all that I can do is beg of you: do not leave Minas Tirith tonight. The occasion may arise when it is suitable for you to leave the city, but this is not it. Please, my lord."
Aragorn's harsh expression softened somewhat.
"The dignitaries from the north-west are owed your counsel in return for their many miles of travel, and do not forget about Lady Arwen; she is with child, and is in need of your company." Faramir added softly in justification.
Aragorn's shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "You are correct, of course. I am deeply sorry, Faramir. It seems that you are always the one made to deal with me when I am at my most difficult. Indeed, it would appear that you are more worthy of the kingship than I!"
"It is not a task I perform with grudge." he replied modestly, with an understanding smile. "And your last statement is utter falsehood. Never before has a king been so adored by his people. Besides, I am quite content with being a Steward of Gondor, for I cannot imagine that I would withstand the pressure of the kingship as well as you. Nobody else in Middle-earth could achieve the tasks you perform daily. Do not doubt yourself, Elessar, nor your strength. You have wisdom and courage that even you do not realize."
And with that, the two men retreated back up to the White Tower, for the moment not a King and Steward of Gondor, but merely two companions, one offering all the help they could for a friend in pain.