CHAPTER 9. PURSUIT
Rarely before had Legolas seen Gimli so enthusiastic about something as he was in the days that followed, comprising of their exploration of the caves in as much detail as the dwarf could mange.
Gimli knew the area well from his previous visit, and seemed determined to persuade the Elf of the grandeur of the caverns. This, he deduced, was best done by showing his Elvish friend as much as he could. No cave, tunnel or rocky outface, be they large, small, grand, or seemingly insignificant, went unobserved, and Legolas, not wishing to offend the Dwarf, performed a flawless imitation of awe and curiosity that extended over even the least outstanding of locations.
Yet not all was feigned, for their travels brought them to images of serenity and splendor such as neither of them had observed before. There were huge, towering rock forms, and endless lakes of dark water, reflecting diamond-covered ceilings. Naturally carved tunnels led deep into the mountain, where there lay halls that could rival those at Moria. There were wide rooms of polished stone, and those with walls that shone with crystals.
Elven eyes, centuries old, examined such caverns with astonished interest, whilst the biased dwarfish ones eyed them with smug satisfaction. Yet, reluctant though he may be to admit it, Legolas had never before had he seen caves the likes of these, and for all the world never expected to find any as spectacular. Even the Halls of Thranduil, the grand Elvish fortresses where he had spent his childhood, had not a portion of the vastness and beauty held by the Glittering Caves.
"The mountains hold treasures to which the forest bears no comparison." Gimli repeated constantly, and such was the spectacle of what he observed that Legolas almost found himself in agreement.
And yet, in all he saw Legolas found reminders of days passed, subtle hints of memories that surfaced painfully as he recalled moments spent with what was once his closest friend, or else of his childhood in Mirkwood that now seemed so long ago.
He was cautious to dismiss these memories and suppress the emotions that came with them, conscious of Gimli's constant observation - since his outburst days previous, the dwarf had kept a close watch on him in case a similar occasion arose. He could sense Gimli's concern, but also his curiosity, for his anger had made his friend suspicious.
He would not guess of what I have done, even in his darkest nightmares, Legolas conceded bitterly. But nor will he guess, so for that I must be grateful.
"Ah, I remember this cavern distinctly!" Gimli exclaimed suddenly, snapping Legolas sharply from his thoughts.
He led the way through a rocky archway into an impossibly large, dark space. The walls, unlike those of many of the other caverns, were not embedded with gemstones or mithril, and yet the sharp, blackened stone held much beauty in its own right. But the most defining feature of the space was the underground river running through the center of the room. The thundering noise of a rapid river crashed through the cavern, deafeningly loud
"It was to here that Éomer and I were forced by the Orcs and Uruk-hai." Gimli explained, yelling to make his voice heard over the roar of the river. "We were trapped between the enemy and the underground river, and forced to fight our way out... In fact, it was here that I gained the upper hand in our little competition. Do you recall our contest of counting kills, my Elvish friend?"
"How could I forget? It was a fierce competition." he replied, determinedly looking anywhere but at the dwarf's smug face.
"And yet I won, did I not? By a margin of..." Gimli asked gloatingly.
"One." Legolas said, smiling. "You won by a narrow one kill. But so glad was I that you made it out of the caves alive that I did not begrudge the fact."
"That was a foolish line of thought; I had my axe, I was bound to make it out alive! No Orc can take down an armed Dwarf!" Gimli stated with complete certainty.
"Of course, how foolish of me." Legolas said, laughing gently.
The pair fell silent, taking in their surrounds and listening to the sound of the water crashing against stony shores.
Suddenly Legolas was reminded of a similar location, although an entirely unrelated situation, and a memory flashed through his mind that he could not suppress. He felt his stance weaken with the mere recollection of a time so riddled with bitterness, one that continually circulated his thoughts even so long after the event had occurred.
The dark, foreboding cliffs rose to meet a cloudy sky. The roar of the river echoed in their ears, whilst a cold wind whipped overhead. Amidst the black waters travelled three small boats, amongst them eight unlikely companions - the remainder of the Fellowship of the Ring. They were in poor spirits, cowering under their cloaks from the icy gale, each traveller's thoughts fixated hopefully on the idea of warmth.
The boats sailed forth, and into view came two towering statues wrought from stone. Their features were clear despite the tumultuous weather, with beautiful, noble faces - that of the Argonath, Elven kings of times long gone by. Legolas gazed up at the figures with mingled reverence and foreboding, for the river and the rock had given him a deep sense of uneasiness.
"Fear not!" called Aragorn from behind them, his bearing noble and a light shining in his grey eyes. The wind whipped at his dark hair as he commanded the boat forwards with skillful strokes. "Fear not! Long have I desired to look upon the likeness of Isildur and Anárion, my sides of old. Under their shadow Elessar, the Elfstone of Arathorn of the House of Valandil Isildur's son, heir of Elendil, has nought to dread!"
Then, in a voice so quiet that only Legolas' sharp Elvish ears could hear, he added in dismay: "Would that Gandalf was here! How my heart yearns for Minas Anor and the walls of my own city! But whither now shall I go?"
Even the memory of these words brought a look of coldness and resentment to Legolas' features.
'Would that Gandalf was here!' Was I not a sufficient companion? Was I not enough for the heir of Isildur? Legolas thought bitterly. Through every rash decision and unfounded accusation I stood by him, without question or doubt. I was at his side for every moment of the Quest, and fought both with and for him in battle. Even now, I have sought to assist in the rebuilding of his kingdom, leaving behind my home and my people.
Was he blind to all of it?
If he were not, then he would have been able to answer his own question. 'Whither now shall I go?' To me, Aragorn, he thought, almost pleadingly. To my arms, open as they had been since the day we met, and my ears, ready and willing to hear and comfort you from your uncertainties and fears.
It was at moments like these that he would turn away from Gimli in an attempt to hide himself, his face an open book to his suffering. Gimli interpreted his silence as awe, instead of bitter reminiscing, and for the most part left him to his thoughts.
The company of Elf and Dwarf went on, and the day passed by almost without their knowledge. Little did they tire, for they were too busy observing the caves around them to take any notice. Legolas was somewhat relieved with the time they were taking, despite the reawakening of old memories and grievances, because it delayed the decision of moving out into the open, and into the path of watchful eyes. The journey to the Fangorn Forest would leave them entirely vulnerable to attack, and the Elf dreaded the miles that lay between them and the relative safety of the trees.
When they sensed that night had fallen (for there was no means of telling, deep in the mountain as they were), the pair stopped at last. Gimli set about lighting a fire using the wood from his pack, and set the cave into a warm and merry glow.
"I am glad, Gimli, that I was fortunate enough to see this place." Legolas sighed happily, stretching out comfortably in front of the crackling flames.
"As am I, Elf, as am I." he agreed. "Though I realize now for certain that my people could never mine these caves."
"No?" Legolas inquired in surprise.
"No." Gimli repeated, slightly bitterly. "No, we could not. No Dwarf could ever besmirch this place by taking its treasures. No 'Gimli son of Glòin, King Under the Mountain', regrettably."
"Ah, alas, perhaps it is for the best." Legolas replied wisely.
The sound of the fire filled the cavern for a few moments, as the two friends merely enjoyed their surroundings.
"There is only one thing that could be better about this visit." Gimli sighed.
"And that is?"
"If Aragorn were here."
Legolas felt a lump rise in his throat. He struggled for a moment to keep his fair face indifferent, but, sensing that he was doing a poor job, turned away so as to hide his look of pain from Gimli.
"It is foolish to suggest such a thing, but I know he would enjoy this place." Gimli went on. "Of course, he is far too busy to have time to explore caves. He has a kingdom to rule!"
Legolas did not trust his voice not to falter, so replied with a brief: "That is true."
"He has changed, though. Aragorn, I mean." Gimli continued, staring pensively into the flames.
"We all have." Legolas said, his tone instinctively defensive in protection of his friend. "The Quest has had a huge effect on every one of us."
"Not on me it hasn't." Gimli disagreed gruffly.
"No, perhaps not you, the resilient Dwarf that you are." Legolas mused. "But for the rest of us..."
He trailed off uncertainly, allowing the crackling of the fire to fill the empty silence.
"Do you regret it?" Gimli asked suddenly.
"Regret what?" Legolas responded, frowning slightly in confusion.
"The Quest." Gimli answered. "Do you regret being sent on the Quest by Lord Elrond?"
When Legolas did not respond, Gimli elaborated.
"I mean to say that... Sometimes, I resent being sent on such a suicide mission. Of course, it all worked out in the end, but for a long while I was doubtful. We had to face terrible things, and battle our way out of more tight corners than we can name. We had to watch Man and Elf alike fall. It was no light burden. Do you regret it being placed upon you?"
Legolas hesitated before answering.
"No." he said finally, his tone soft and thoughtful. "No, I do not. For without the darkness and despair of the Quest, none of us could truly appreciate the light and happiness of the days of peace. The shadow has passed, by the blood of a great many people, but now Middle-earth may be allowed to endure."
Gimli glanced up at Legolas in surprise, obviously not anticipating the answer he had received.
"Besides, without the Quest I would never have met you." Legolas added quickly. "Never would I have dreamt of gaining the friendship of Gimli, son of Glòin. Nor would I have met four fine hobbits of the Shire, or a Steward of the distant realm of Gondor. As for Gandalf, well, he would be merely a name heard in tales."
"And, do not forget, you would never have become the closest comrade of the heir of Isildur." Gimli pointed out.
"No." Legolas said, after a slight hesitation. "No, I would not."
They both drew silent, whilst Legolas warmed his slender hands by the flames.
"Yes, he has changed, Aragorn has." Gimli conceded. "More than the rest of us, in my opinion. He is quicker to anger, and slower in appreciating his comrades."
"Sometimes a king must make decisions that do not favor everyone." Legolas noted softly, his eyes downcast.
"Yes, I suppose they must." he agreed. "And Aragorn will be a great king, there can be no doubt of that."
Legolas looked away from the Dwarf again to hide his anguish. He will be a great king, but at what expense? Legolas thought sadly. The expense of his freedom? Or at the expense of his friends, perhaps.
He quickly wiped away the wetness on his long lashes, begging for Gimli to be too preoccupied with the caves to notice the subtle movement. For now, his hopes were affirmed, as the Dwarf glanced around the cavern pensively.
"Well, I am reluctant to visit this Fangorn Forest, after seeing once again the majesty of the caves." Gimli stated, glancing across at Legolas. The Elf snapped out of his thoughts, and gave a poor attempt at a smile.
"They have a very different type of beauty about them." Legolas replied. "They possess perhaps not the grandeur, but they far outdo the caves in other ways, I assure you."
"I do not see how." Gimli commented skeptically. "When last I visited that woodland, I thought of nothing but how I wished to exit it as soon as I was able."
"Have an open mind, my friend." Legolas said. "The forest will not disappoint you. You have my word."
"Yours is a word I trust, so for now I am comforted." Gimli said brightly. "Do we begin our travels tomorrow?"
"If we have seen enough of the caves, I suppose we must." Legolas replied.
Gimli smiled with superiority. "Reluctant to leave the caverns, are you?"
Yes, but not for the reasons you believe, Legolas thought uncomfortably, the image of enemy eyes flashing briefly through his mind.
"Perhaps that is true." he responded plainly, avoiding the Dwarf's eyes in case his own gave hint of his concealment.
"Well, we have seen all that I can show you of the Glittering Caves. We have walked some miles these past days!" Gimli commented. "And for my part, I have convinced an Elf of the beauty to be found in stone and metal. I consider that a feat in itself!"
"As you should." Legolas agreed, laughing mildly. "Now all there is to see is whether I can do the same of a Dwarf and the forest.
"We will see." Gimli grumbled, lounging down onto his blankets and closing his eyes. "Yes, we will see about that indeed."
~~~{###}~~~
Hundreds of miles away, a rider was readying himself for departure in the stables of the White Tower. He frowned slightly, considering the strange circumstances under which he had been assigned the role he was about to perform.
"Tirion." called a voice from across the courtyard.
The guard turned, expecting to see a fellow soldier, but was instead greeted by the King of Gondor, his bearing noble as he strode across the cobblestone towards him.
"My lord." Tirion replied, so taken aback at the king's casual use of his first name that he almost forgot to bow. He arched over clumsily, almost dropping his spear in the process.
Aragorn smirked in obvious amusement, and when he spoke, his tone was pleasant and conversational. "How fare you, Tirion?"
"Very well, my lord. And yourself?" the guard replied, somewhat bewildered by the spontaneous conversation with a man so far above him in ranking.
"I have fared better." Aragorn sighed wearily, as though confiding in a close friend. "I come to you with a request, though, if I may be so discourteous to admit it."
"Of course, my lord. How may I assist you?" Tirion replied, still in shock that the king knew of his existence, let alone his name and position.
"I have heard that you have great prowess at riding, am I correct?" Aragorn inquired.
"I am a fair rider." he replied modestly, shrugging lightly.
"I am also told that you are quite the tracker." the king added. "Is this also true?"
"Aye, my lord, it is." Tirion answered, nodding.
"Excellent, for I require someone with both of these skills. I have a task that I need attended to, as urgently as possible." Aragorn explained. "I need someone to track down a steed and its riders that set off from the city, nigh on a week ago."
"I would be honored, my lord, though I am on duty to patrol the tower-"
"I have already spoken to the Captain of the Guard, and arranged for a replacement." Aragorn admitted. "I assumed you would agree. Please forgive my presumptuousness."
"Of course." Tirion replied immediately, smiling reassuringly. "So when I am to ride off?"
"Tonight, as soon as night has fallen." Aragorn answered. "The roads will be less busy, as you may need to travel by them for some stretch of the journey."
"Certainly, my lord. What of the rider, and the steed? Can you tell me for whom I am searching?" the guard asked. "I do not wish to pry, but I will need these details."
"Of course, I understand full well. I have had many a long year's time spent tracking, believe it if you will." Aragorn said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "The steed is one of Rohan, the riders an Elf and a Dwarf."
Tirion's eyes widened in sudden comprehension; only one such duo existed in the minds of the people of Minas Tirith, and both were well-known to the point where they were celebrities in Gondor. "They are not... they could not be Prince Legolas and Master Gimli, could they?
Aragorn's composure slipped somewhat, but he replaced it in a moment with a feigned grin. "You are too wise for my deceptions, Tirion. Indeed, they are. I have urgent need of them both, for matters that are my own business, if I may allow them to remain so."
"Certainly, my lord." the soldier replied quickly.
"I am in your debt, Tirion." Aragorn said gratefully, bowing his head respectfully, before turning and walking away, leaving the guard (in a slightly delirious state) in his wake.
Tirion was still in shock at the conversation, even hours later. It was not often that a guard was held in discussion with the very lord he was employed to protect, and even stranger was it that he had been sought out by name.
It occurred to the man, as he threw the saddle over his horse's back, that not only was this unusual, but strangely desperate. Why would the ruler of a kingdom so well-equipped and influential personally seek out someone to perform such a seemingly trivial errand?
Perhaps the tales of the war are true, Tirion pondered, tightening the saddle pensively. There have been more than rumors of such matters. Many times it has been said that that Elf and the king are more than mere comrades-in-arms, but never before had I realized its accuracy. Obviously the king holds them both in high honor.
The door creaked open noisily, and Tirion spun around quickly. The door swung open to reveal Aragorn, his face serious and concerned.
"Tirion." he murmured in greeting. "I am relieved to see you here."
"Surely you did not believe I would go back on my word?" Tirion replied with a crooked grin.
Aragorn laughed lowly, a reluctant smile appearing on his weary face. "Of course not, but still, I was concerned."
"You need not worry. I will find them, my lord." Tirion stated with certainty, head held high. "Even if I perish in the task."
Aragorn laughed, but the sound was strained, and the merriment did not meet his eyes. "I thoroughly hope it will not come to that, my friend."
Tirion smiled comfortingly, and did the final adjustments on his saddle before leaping expertly up onto the horse. "Well, if you have naught else to tell me, I would be off."
"I believe that is all, except for one last matter. When you find them, please give this to Legolas." Aragorn requested, holding out a parchment envelope.
Tirion glanced at the letter, his eyes falling upon the wax seal, which bore the crest of the kingship of Gondor. After a moment of reverential hesitance he took it, and stowed it carefully into his pack.
"Go with speed, Tirion." Aragorn urged him, stepping back from the steed.
The guard turned and spurred forwards. The doors were flung open, and horse and rider were off, engulfed by the blackness of the night.
"Quel marth, mellon nin." Aragorn murmured softly, staring out into the darkness. "Good luck."