CHAPTER 28. NEWS EXCHANGED
Gimli glanced over Aragorn with a look of hostile dubiousness.
"I wish I could say it is a pleasure to see you, lad, but after the state you put the Elf in, I am not sure it would be true."
Aragorn had to force himself not to wince – his friend's words fell like hammer strokes, and he felt bombarded by the frankness of the Dwarf's manner.
"Gimli, my friend, I –" he began, but was instantly cut off.
"I do not wish to know the intricacies of your argument with Legolas, I merely wish for his pain to be prevented. His burden was evident from the moment we left Minas Tirith."
Aragorn frowned suddenly, cocking his head slightly in confusion.
"Since you left Minas Tirith?" he repeated. "I do not understand."
"What is not to understand? He was riddled with some grief unbeknownst to me, from the very moment we left the city gates! No doubt that is part of the reason he was overpowered when the ambush came in Fangorn, so preoccupied were his thoughts." Gimli suggested broodingly. "He was… not himself, on our travels. I do think his mind was in a steady resting place."
"Did he tell you of what he was conflicted?" Aragorn asked sharply, but his friend shook his head.
"Nay, I asked, but he did not wish to speak of it. I would assume you, having caused the issue, might bear more information than I in that field." he interjected testily, and surprise flittered across the King's face – he had scarcely heard Gimli so spiteful. The Dwarf must have noticed, for a moment later he amended his comments. "I suppose I cannot hold you much to blame. At least you are home and safe, which is no small feat after the madness that befell you, and you are both whole in body, if not mind."
Aragorn glanced confusedly down at his face, but detected no hidden message in his words. It was only after a poignant second that he realized it – Gimli did not know of Legolas' injuries.
"Where is the Elf hiding, anyhow?" Gimli asked keenly. "I have a few questions to ask, if he will hear 'em."
"I am sorry, Gimli, but it seems you have not been told fully of what has transpired." Aragorn murmured morosely. "Legolas is… he has been wounded."
"Wounded?" Gimli repeated incredulously. "What sort of a creature could lay harm to that Elf? I have never seen a soldier able! Wounded, indeed."
"It was not in battle, as such. They were cowardly attacks. He was bound, and they… they lay much harm to him." Aragorn's voice wavered.
Gimli's face dropped like a leaden weight in water as he heard the solemnity in Aragorn's tone – this was no joke.
"Take me to him." he demanded brusquely.
"He is not in any state to respond to you, it would merely –"
"You are the one that has done him this harm, and you get to see him." Gimli snapped impatiently. "The least you can do is allow me the same privilege."
This time Aragorn was unprepared, and he recoiled from the blunt comment. His chest would have filled with indignant rage, had every word of it not been true – as it was, he felt empty, hollowed. He bowed his head in submission and indicated the curtain on the far side of the chamber; he had asked for the Elf's bed to be screened off, so that he might rest away from prying eyes. Gimli strode towards the drapes, followed in his strides by Aragorn, and impatiently tore them aside.
His eyes lingered on the sight of Legolas, pale and sickly, for just a moment before he turned their focus to Aragorn. His features were thick with raw rage that was quite clear, even behind the mass of beard.
"It is clear that I have been withheld several minor details." he stated coldly. "Do you care to explain how the best man I have ever met came to be in such a state?"
Gimli's face remained passive as Aragorn recounted the events of the past weeks. He stayed uncharacteristically calm even as Aragorn told him of how he had discovered Legolas in the freezing depths of the caverns, bound and beaten and utterly broken. It was not until he reached the point of the messenger sent for Mirkwood that he made any comment.
"You have gone to his father for help?" Gimli queried.
"Aye, the messenger should have arrived by today. The Elves of Mirkwood are well-skilled in healing, and far more able than we to treat one of their own kindred." Aragorn explained. "Do you see fault in this proposal?"
"Nay, nay, it sounds like the best hope for his health. I merely hope that he will not resent their presence when he awakens." Gimli stated hesitantly.
"Why would he resent the presence of his father?" Aragorn returned, puzzled.
"During our exploration of the Glittering Caves, we exchanged words regarding Thranduil. I received the impression that there were truths relating to his father that Legolas preferred to remain hidden." Gimli explained slowly. "Indeed, I feared for a time that he had been taken by some figure from his past, for the manner in which he spoke was dark and puzzling, and left many questions to be answered. And though now that has been disproved, still I fear that there is much we do not know regarding our friend and his history."
Gimli suddenly recalled, in quite vivid detail, that Legolas had been reminded of his father's halls by the resemblance they bore to the Caves, and they had begun to speak of the forest that the Elf had called home in his youth. It had been then, entirely unintentionally, that he had struck some sort of invisible barrier, and managed to anger the most passive, tranquil being he had ever befallen.
"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 wereresponsible?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.
Aragorn listened to Gimli's recount with fresh ears. He knew that Legolas avoided much talk of his youth, but he had never thought to question his motives against it. It had certainly never occurred to him that something might have transpired in days passed that left a dark presence in the Elf's heart.
"Did you manage to make him speak any further on the matter?" Aragorn asked.
Gimli shook his head. "He was so disgruntled after the first instance that I dared not ask again. I did not want to drive him to any further distraction."
Aragorn swallowed the lump of guilt that caught in his throat.
"It matters not." he managed to spit out. "No matter their previous quarrels, I would not risk Legolas' life merely for the sake of avoiding some slight confrontation. I will deal with Thranduil myself if need be, so long as Legolas is brought to wellness."
"Surely this must be resolved swiftly; he is his father, after all. What can come between a father and son, short of death?" Gimli asked, before realising the dual meaning of his words and shifting uncomfortably.
"Come, Gimli, you must be past exhaustion." Aragorn interjected to fill the silence and, when the Dwarf showed signs of protest, added: "Legolas would hold it against you were you not to take your leave and rest awhile. Allow me to find you a chamber."
Gimli glanced back towards Legolas for a short moment before following Aragorn away. They allowed the curtains to drift shut behind them, both men silent and doing their best to ignore the faltering and falling breaths they left behind.
"And I suppose I owe you an apology, laddie. The burdens Legolas bore were not all of your making, even if some were. You are no more responsible for this than anyone else. Save the cowardly bastard who inflicted such wounds upon him." Gimli growled, as an afterthought.
"You need not forgive me, for I would certainly not." Aragorn replied quietly. "And I assure you, I share your premise. As soon as Legolas is well, I will personally lead the hunt to find the man who did this and – "
"Rip him limb from limb?" Gimli suggested.
Aragorn gritted his teeth, and growled: "That would be a mild reaction."
"Well, if you can manage to subdue that urge – and I assure you, I would understand if you could not – I may have some news to bring you." Gimli stated slowly. "But Éomer was adamant that you receive it on the right terms, and I gave him my word."
Aragorn frowned, utterly puzzled. "Gimli, it is unlike you to speak so cryptically. What news bade Éomer bring me?"
The Dwarf sighed heavily. "Best you read it yourself."
Gimli reached for his belt and pulled out a scroll of parchment, which had been hidden from view amidst a wild tangle of beard. Aragorn took it immediately and unfurled in in one swift, hasty motion. It was scrawled in handwriting which Aragorn immediately recognized as Éomer's, messy with haste and eagerness.
Aragorn, I send with Gimli both tidings and apologies.
News came to me not a week passed that you had been sighted on the road to the White Mountains, and I knew that you must be in search of Legolas. By the time I was informed, it was too late for my men to offer help, and for that I am truly sorry.
However, it will gladden you to hear that we have since laid siege on the caverns ourselves, and discovered many matters of importance. I will now write with as much detail as my speed will allow, for the swifter you receive this message, the swifter your heart will be at rest.
Firstly, we found in the caves a soldier by the name of Tirion.
Upon reading this, Aragorn's stomach churned with guilt, to the point of nausea. He had quite entirely forgotten about Tirion, the young guardsmen he had sent after Legolas. He had not even spared a thought for the man whilst bound in the caverns himself.
Surely, Aragorn thought, only a fool would not realise that my messenger had also been captured. It is the only possible explanation for his sudden disappearance, especially considering he was tracing the very same path upon which Legolas was kidnapped.
And yet, he had come and gone from the Mountains, quite unaware that he left behind a kinsman in the frigid darkness of the tunnels. He felt ill with guilt, disgusted that mere distraction had nearly led to the death of one of his soldiers.
Just another fatal mistake to add to the list, Aragorn thought, silently but fiercely scorning himself. He took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue reading:
Tirion remains too injured to yet ride, but is being attended to with utmost care by the healers of Edoras, and should be fit to return home in another few days.
Perhaps an issue that lies more closely to your heart is that of Beregond, son of Baranor.
Aragorn's heart threatened to breach his chest upon reading this, and he forced his pulse to maintain steady as the continued.
We discovered the mutinous wretch, along with his company of rebels, in the midst of preparing for some sort of warfare, which my soldiers quickly neutralised. Those that were left alive were captured and brought to Edoras, with the exception of Beregond, whom I presumed you would wish to deal with yourself. He, along with a party of guards including Gimli, have been sent to Minas Tirith to await your orders.
Before I finish, I would impart on you a warning – do not do anything which you may come to regret. I send you Beregond to do with what you will, bearing in mind the trust that your actions will reflect only the morals of a righteous king.
Rohan sends all of its good tidings to you, in the knowledge that you may need them in the trying days to come.
Éomer.
Finally finished, Aragorn looked up from the page, hands trembling almost imperceptibly.
"Take me to him." he demanded, softly but with ferocity. "Where have they taken the traitorous snake? Take me to him."
"I will take you to him once you have given your word that you will not harm him." Gimli returned at once. "Éomer is right – you must keep your head. You are a king, not some vicious, bloodthirsty Orc – "
"I do not want to keep my head." Aragorn growled, through gritted teeth.
"Then you shall not be allowed to see him." Gimli retorted. "Will you give me your word?"
Aragorn's face screwed up, before adopting a look of surrender.
"In recent weeks, it has become apparent that anything that comes out of my mouth is no more trustworthy nor truthful than the ramblings of a madman. Nonetheless, you have my word." he replied.
"They have taken him straight to the solitary cells, the underground ones." Gimli answered wearily. "You are going to harm him despite giving me your word to the contrary, are you not?"
Aragorn, who had already begun to stride hastily up the corridor, turned quickly to face the Dwarf, a pained sort of grimace on his face. His very aura seemed to implore forgiveness as he returned shortly:
"I shall certainly try."