Chapter 3: The Artefact

Gimli had his small travelling hammer and chisel in his hand and was carving a piece of granite he had picked up whilst scrambling around the rocks after Elladan. Slowly the smooth shape emerged beneath his hand from the rough grit of the rock. Every now and again he glanced up towards the Keep, for Gandalf and Legolas' small group were still within and the other Men had returned about an hour ago.

Ah, there they were. Gimli nodded to himself; two Men emerged, one clasping the other by the arm as if he leaned upon the other's strength. Gimli let the hammer and chisel still and fixed his gaze upon the entrance of the Keep. The other three Men emerged then, struggling to carry something between them, a white cloak was cast over whatever it was. But no Wizard. And certainly no elf.

Gimli rose to his feet. He noticed Elladan had come to stand beside him as the five Men walked over the causeway that led from the Keep. The white-cloaked object they carried between them was at least the size of a tall man, Gimli noted, but there was no way of telling what it was.

And then Legolas emerged, and Gandalf.

Gimli breathed and settled back down on the crumbling wall, took out his hammer and chisel and went back to crafting the stone into what was hidden within. He kept one eye on the causeway and watched the five Men handle whatever it was with delicacy and concern. They carried it into the camp where they carefully set it upright and leaned it gently against the crumbling stone wall. Here they paused and talked together, one of them glancing over to Gandalf every now and again as if waiting for a sign, while the first two Men scrambled over the stone wall, although not in haste or fear. One stood upright on the top of the wall, looking beyond. Then he cupped his hand called to his companion, pointing at something.

Gandalf stood at a distance and watched as the two disappeared over the ruined wall to some place that could not be seen from the dwarf's vantage point. Gimli saw that Legolas came to stand beside the Wizard, but even from here, Gimli could see the stiffness of Legolas' stance, arms crossed over his chest and his bow clasped to his chest. Legolas bent his head towards Gandalf and murmured something and the Wizard nodded once and glanced towards the white-covered object.

Beside Gimli, Elladan took a step forward and was staring after the Men who stood in a small group around their burden, now resting against the wall. Elladan muttered something that Gimli could not hear. The dwarf did not ask either, for at that moment, Legolas turned his head and catching sight of Gimli, lifted his hand in greeting. Gimli nodded seriously in return and then bent his head to his carving. Now that he had seen his friend's return, he was no longer concerned, in spite of Elladan's presence, coiled and tense beside him.

Suddenly Elladan muttered something that sounded like a curse, and then quite abruptly, left Gimli's side to stride down the broken road towards Gandalf, except he did not keep to the road but leapt swift and sure-footed over crumbled walls and piles of stones at the side of the road in his haste to reach Gandalf it seemed. As Elladan drew closer, Legolas turned towards him but Elladan barely glanced at Legolas, all his intent upon Gandalf. At first, Legolas merely watched but even where he was, Gimli heard Elladan hail Gandalf and his tone was accusing and hostile. At that, Legolas moved very slightly so that Elladan came to stand beside Legolas rather than Gandalf and the two had to speak across Legolas in low hurried voices. Legolas listened, his head tilted slightly to one side.

Gimli raised his head, the stone and tools lay still in his hands. He watched attentively now as Gandalf lay a cautioning hand on Elladan's arm and spoke quietly. Elladan listened for a moment but after a moment, Legolas stepped back, eyes fixed upon the Wizard. But that was nothing compared with Elladan's reaction. He pulled away from Gandalf in horror, like he'd been bitten, and from here, Gimli could see him remonstrating with the Wizard with increasing agitation and Gandalf responding in the short, clipped tones that meant he was very angry. At one point he even rapped his staff upon the stone road impatiently. Elladan threw a furious look at Gandalf and then stalked away. Leaping quickly from the causeway to the road and over the crumbling walls, he passed Gimli without a word. The dwarf looked back down at his carving appraisingly. And waited for Legolas.

He did not have to wait for long.

He was aware of the elf settling beside him, peering over his shoulder at the carving. 'What is it that you carve?' Legolas asked and Gimli shrugged for it was not clear yet what shape intended to emerge. '

What was all that about?' he asked nonchalantly in turn.

'Elladan is angry with Gandalf for bringing an artefact out of the tower,' Legolas said matter-of-factly. But there was something in his voice that only Gimli would detect; the slightest breathiness, a tremble in the firmness of his voice?

Gimli blew on the carving. Dust clouded in the wake of his breath. 'That seems a little hasty.'

'It is a mirror.'

Gimli frowned. 'A mirror? So yon ghouls were a little vain you think?' he wondered aloud.

But Legolas did not laugh. He was watching Elladan, who stood a little distance away, standing high up on a crumbled wall, looking back towards Gandalf.

'There was a Palantir as well. Gandalf has that. He said he was taking it for Aragorn but he did not say the same of the mirror…He says that we must not leave artefacts lying around for anyone to find.'

'Hmm.' Gimli grunted. 'That seems sensible.'

'Elladan does not agree,' Legolas said slowly. 'He asked Gandalf if the mirror was akin to the one in Phellanthir.' There was a pause. 'I did not see a mirror in Phellanthir.'

Gimli paused in his carving and looked up. 'Phellanthir?' The name itself conjured dreadful images; the Tower crashing down upon them, stones hurled after them as they fled, and the river surging and washing over the marshland in a tidal wave after the seizures of the earth at the tower's fall. And Glorfindel emerging from the dust, half carrying Legolas, and Rhawion's lifeless body in his arms. 'I did not go into the Tower as you know,' Gimli said. 'And I am glad I did not. And I am glad too that I did not have to go in there either.' He nodded his head towards the Keep. 'And even gladder that you are out of there and here where I can keep an eye on you.'

Legolas smiled slightly. 'Elladan seems to think this mirror is dangerous.'

'A dangerous mirror?' Gimli said practically. 'Perhaps it is very unflattering, makes you look like a ghoul.'

Legolas looked at him sharply. He said nothing but his mouth was a thin line and Gimli found that unexpectedly disturbing.

'I will groom Arod,' Legolas said abruptly and Gimli frowned at the sudden change from confidential to practical, but he knew Legolas well enough now to not question him and let him go to the horse, which looked up in delight and blew in Legolas' hair. Gimli glanced back down to the stone in his hand, thinking how Legolas had done the same after the fight with Elrohir all that time ago on the quay at Lindir. He flicked a quick glance up to where Legolas had begun brushing Arod in long, hard strokes that the silly beast loved and leaned into, his eyes half closed and lower lip slack. Legolas' face was intent, closed.

Gimli sighed and weighed the chisel in his hand. It was too light really for stone. But only a travel tool and it had served him well. He thought about what Legolas had said; it seemed then that Elladan had seen a mirror in Phellanthir. But that did not mean anything really. He squinted along the line of the granite, gauging where to cut next, and carefully chipped away one flake of stone. He wondered why the Nazgûl had a looking glass in the first place and imagined the Nazgûl standing in front of it in the way folk did and wondering - is my shroud hanging right? Is black a good colour for me?

He amused himself in this way for a little while as he carved. Much more worrying however, Gimli thought as he gently teased out a sliver of stone to be the beginning of an eye, was the Palantir. Aragorn already had one of those and it had caused nothing but trouble. But they could not leave it lying around for anyone to find and it was better that Aragorn had it.

Now Imrahil's Men were harnessing two horses to a cart they had salvaged and the mirror was being loaded into it. Legolas had ceased grooming Arod and straightened to watch them.

The dwarf blew on the stone and held it up to the light so he could see where to line his chisel next. He glanced over to where Elladan stood watching, his spine ramrod straight and bristling with unspent energy, thought Gimli.

Carefully, Gimli stowed his small hammer and chisel away in the loose heel of his boot where he kept such useful items and clipped the heel back into place. He folded the small piece of stone in a soft cloth and shoved it into a deep pocket. Then he brushed his hands off and stood beside Legolas, watching as the mirror was loaded onto the cart. One of the Men stood, holding the horses' reins and two were carefully securing the mirror with leather straps and ropes.

'Gandalf says that Elladan, Gandalf and I must ride on ahead and warn Aragorn of what we have found,' Legolas said suddenly, He made an impatient gesture with his hand. 'He is hiding something.' Legolas looked over towards the Wizard as he spoke, his eyes distant. 'Why does he cover the mirror with his cloak? And why must we ride on ahead? Not you, Gimli. Just Gandalf, Elladan and me. He has that Palantir but takes no such care with that.'

Gimli humphed and crossed his arms over his broad chest. 'And what is Elladan's problem with it? What about the other mirror in Phellanthir?' he asked, narrowing his eyes and watching the son of Elrond.

Legolas's mouth twisted a little and he cast his gaze downwards. 'He accuses Gandalf of being reckless.' Legolas shook his head. 'I felt something up there, Gimli. I thought it was just the lingering sense of the Nazgûl…but now…hearing Elladan, I wonder if there is more.'

They stood side by side as the last ropes and straps tying the mirror onto the wagon were secured. Elladan stood beyond the edges of the troop of Men, watching. But his hand gripped the hilt of his sword and the other was jammed into his belt as if he needed to restrain himself. He fixed his gaze upon the Keep and did not look at the wagon where the mirror was.

Gimli pursed his lips and contemplated the sky. 'I think I will trust Gandalf in this,' he said thoughtfully. 'He has been right about most things so far. Not all,' he countered himself, 'but most. I think I will ask him about what this mirror is and why he believes he cannot leave it or break it.'

'He will not tell you,' Legolas said slowly. Gimli glanced up at him.

Arod snuffed lightly in Gimli's hair. Almost automatically, the dwarf searched his pockets. His blunt, clever fingers found a small piece of forgotten carrot in amongst the dust and cotton gathering in his deepest pocket. Absently he gave it to the horse who crunched contentedly.

Gimli stared ahead; clearly Legolas had already asked and met silence from the Wizard.

Phellanthir. The very name was unwelcome. Gimli remembered how distraught the elf had been over Rhawion's death. None of them wanted a repeat of that and Gimli resolved to keep watch upon his friend.

Legolas shifted slightly beside him. 'All Gandalf would say is that if the Nazgûl deemed it important enough to keep,' he said quietly, 'then it has some value to them and should not be left here for anyone else to find.'

'Very well. But don't look into it, Legolas,' Gimli cautioned. 'You never know. And I cannot imagine that all it does is make you look a bit ghoulish.'

At that, Legolas seemed to jerk slightly as if startled and he stepped away. 'I am going to talk to Elladan,' he said and Gimli roused himself.

'Well I'm coming with you!' he said.

0o0o0

Aragorn sighed and pulled a beautifully drawn map towards himself, pristine and crisp; it was newly delivered from one of the many lords of Gondor whose name he could not remember. Aragorn sat on an ornately carved chair at a desk that was heavy and decorative enough for a banqueting hall rather than a tent in the middle of the Field of Cormallen.

He had let the flap of the tent fall closed to give himself a little privacy because he found people kept looking in to see the King Returned and he had finally grown tired of it and felt a little over-exposed. But he supposed that this was what it was going to be like from now on.

'The King does not wish to be disturbed my lord.' His guards muted voices came from outside. Something else he was going to have to get used to; having guards.

'He will wish to see me.' Low and insistent. Irritated. Aragorn smiled; Elrohir of course.

'I am sorry my lord. He has said no one.' The guard's voice was anxious and Aragorn wondered how long the Man could keep up his resistance in the face of Aragorn's brother.

'He will see me.' The voice repeated, more loudly. More insistent. Definitely more irritated.

Aragorn smiled as the tent door flapped aside and Elrohir limped slowly in, still leaning on the cane that someone had quickly made for him, but he was not the only one who had needed such. The veins stood out on his hands where he clutched the cane so Aragorn, ever the healer, knew he was still in pain.

'Here, let me…' He hurried over to pull out a chair for Elrohir but the scowl and slight shake of his head stopped Aragorn. The King Returned sighed, exasperated that he was surrounded by stoical warriors who would not let him help.

'Is there any news?' Elrohir asked shortly.

Silently and only to himself, Aragorn admitted that he would not be allowed the assist his injured brother, and sat down. He watched while Elrohir stubbornly struggled one handed with the heavy chair that got caught on the thick and opulent rugs that had been spread lavishly over the grass so the King Returned had something warm to meet his toes first thing in the morning. Elrohir let out an expletive that, had Gimli been in the room, would have shocked the dwarf, not only that Elrohir was so fluent in Khuzdul but that his language was so colourful.

'I asked for news,' Elrohir barked, tugging irritably at the chair until it suddenly moved and he could collapse into it.

'News?' Aragorn quirked an eyebrow. 'There is always news. What sort of news?'

'You know what news,' Elrohir snapped. He dropped the cane then and it fell with a thud onto the thick rugs. This time, instead of cursing, he exhaled quietly and let his head drop.

Aragorn was instantly at his side. 'I wish you would let me help,' he said softly, setting the cane near Elrohir's trembling hand.

Elrohir sighed. 'Forgive me,' he murmured. 'I have good days and bad days…The bad days are very bad.'

'This is one,' Aragorn said, less of a question than a statement.

Elrohir nodded. 'It would help if I knew where they were, how they are,' he said and Aragorn knew he meant Elladan of course, but also Legolas. Aragorn still marvelled that the two seemed to have found such deep and tender closeness; he was not yet ready to call it love because it was so new and Legolas was… well, he had not exactly been celibate during the quest for Aragorn knew of at least three lovers Legolas had had since he had turned up in imladris that rainy afternoon.

Aragorn poured water into a glass goblet for Elrohir and mused that in fact, Legolas had been quite happy to take every opportunity to be anything but celibate. And so Elrohir might be just one more notch on the Wood elf's knife. Aragorn was unhappy about that. Elrohir was so vulnerable, wounded. If he was merely some plaything of Legolas' to while away the time, it would hurt Elrohir beyond his capacity to heal. He sighed heavily and then looked up to find his brother's grey eyes fixed upon him, a wry smile upon his full lips as if he heard every word of those thoughts.

'I know what you think, Estel, but that is not how it is. I am neither so fragile nor is Legolas so fickle.' He smiled and Aragorn, so used to the suppressed violence in Elrohir, marvelled at the softness in his eyes…and then he was afraid again, for he did not think Legolas so easily won, though he loved his mercurial friend and owed him his life many times over.

"Tell me any news,' Elrohir said, more gently. His tall frame looked odd bent into a mannish chair, for Elrohir was over a head taller than any lord of Gondor. He looked cramped and uncomfortable and Aragorn made a note to commission a carpenter to make new chairs, higher tables, to accommodate his family. Friends too, he added mentally, thinking of Legolas, as tall as Elrohir but more wiry. And Gimli and the hobbits, for he would not give them chairs for a child. He mused to himself, unaware of Elrohir's eyes upon him, and the slight smile on his lips as if he knew where Aragorn's thoughts took him.

Upon the lavish inlaid and decorated table were a number of scrolls. One was uncurled and Aragorn reached out to it. It was neatly scribed in Gimli's careful hand and meticulously detailed.

'They have scoured Minas Morgul,' Aragorn said. 'Most of the Orcs and goblins have already abandoned it but there were some Men who resisted them. Gimli says they have taken the city though and it is now ours, though he complains I have not given them enough men to leave there or to hold it for long.' He sighed. 'I am loathe to send men out to Mordor when we have only just returned. It is a grim post and will wear upon their hearts.'

Elrohir grunted and shifted uncomfortably. 'Send those who did not go to Mordor then. They are desperate to win acclaim and redeem their honour in the eyes of the city. It is a task not beyond them. Find a good commander though, one who will keep them strong.' His hand clenched the arm of the chair and Aragorn saw how he gritted his teeth. 'Even better, raze it to the ground so that no evil can return there.'

"I have a message too from Gandalf that asks for a smooth running wagon and some skilled men.' He frowned, perplexed. 'There may be some things that he has found that he would not leave there, or some treasures perhaps, plundered from Gondor.'

'Of course,' Elrohir said, leaning heavily upon the arms of the chair and shifting uncomfortably. 'Minas Ithil was a beautiful city. Its spires reminded me of tales of Gondolin, and the bells used to ring through that valley, echo from the mountains. When the moon shone upon the walls, it was indeed white and silver. And there was great wealth too.'

His grey eyes were unfocused for a moment and Aragorn knew that he was remembering with elven clarity, every detail, every sound, the faces of those he met and knew well.

'It is a place of great evil now,' Elrohir said slowly. His face grew troubled then. 'I wish Legolas had not gone, nor Elladan.' He looked away. 'They are not in danger, but I feel it is there nonetheless.'

0o0o

TBC