Chapter 51: The Ale Gezên-aozh
Chapter Text
Thank you to my dear beta, Anarithilien, as always.
Also to all those who left kudos and reviews, and especially to Alanic, Hhawklady,PL, Samui-sakura, freddie23, Raider-K, Nako-13, Nina,chasingbluefish, Marlen, LayneWolf, paradis- artificiels, patrese1 (soooo nice to hear from you) Pame, keekercat, Naleid, Nelya, Fadesintothewest, Spiced Wine, Gabriel, Narya, and Veill, LorienofLoth, pmhw, atrogrl, LadyLysa, Violette45, stjaninaro, Chinos, wildfoot, and all the guests.
*See Black Arrow chapter 26 to 28.
Chapter 51: The Ale Gezên-aozh
Next morning, Legolas and Gimli ambled slowly along the river bank, beneath birches and alders. Legolas told Gimli stories of the Forest river, of his brothers, whom Gimli remembered from the Battle of the Five Armies, for they had long ago realised they had encountered each other during that battle.* Gimli told Legolas about his own family, his brothers and his own adventures in the Ered Luin. The sun was gently warm, not hot but both travelled with their cloaks rolled up and stripped to their shirt sleeves and breeches. Legolas had taken off his boots and had slung them over the saddle.
Gimli wondered at the sudden change in Legolas. It seemed that Elrond must indeed be a very great healer to have wrought such a change so speedily, but he thought that here in the open, amongst the trees and woods, along the banks of the river, Legolas was always different and that he would watch to see if he really had healed once they returned to the city.
At last, Cirya sped up, ears pricked and head up. A whinny trembled through him and they crested a ridge. There below them, a valley spread, fertile and green with lush grass. The slow river wound through the valley and trees lined its banks. Sandy beaches were dotted along the river where horses and cattle had gone down to drink. It was a fair place indeed and Gimli felt Legolas sigh and relax.
Below them was a herd of horses, whose heads were thrown up and turned towards Cirya's whicker. Gimli felt Legolas tense and the horse danced and shook its head.
'No, Legolas.' Gimli clutched at the Elf's tunic, feeling both Elf and horse bunch their muscles. 'No!' he shouted as they leapt into a fast canter and then gallop, along the track that fled over the ridge and down into the valley. Gimli clung for dear life wrapping his muscular arms about Legolas' waist, aware that he was cursing roundly in Khuzdûl, shrieking like a maid every now and again as they careened dangerously through the woods, leaping over small logs and ditches and swept out onto the meadows. Suddenly horses were all around them, kicking up their heels and shaking their heads, pounding the earth beneath them.
'Let me down you foolish Elf!' Gimli shouted.
Instantly the horse slowed and gentle as mist, a hand reached for Gimli and carefully unpeeled him from where he was clutching Legolas. He was gently lowered to the good firm earth and a moment later, the great silly beast had charged off and Legolas was no longer mounted either but running between the horses. A little over-excited horse came charging towards Gimli and skidded to a halt inches away from him, squealing in delight.
'Get off, you stinking great beast,' Gimli shouted gruffly but he was delighted to see Arod. The horse's great brown eyes were excited and full of joy and it butted Gimli with its nose, snuffling at his pockets and insistent. Legolas suddenly appeared and Arod snorted joyfully and twisted, charging off, cavorting like a big playful dog. Legolas raced after him, laughing gleefully.
Gimli shook his head in gruff exasperation, settled himself beneath a wide, spreading oak tree and fished out his pipe. A long stream of smoke wreathed him blissfully and he watched the Elf running between the horses, seizing Arod's mane and leaping onto the horse's back, bending low over his neck and encouraging him to flatten out into a gallop.
At last, after much unnecessary charging about and cavorting, splashing in rivers and ridiculously excessive affectionate nuzzling and snorting and scratching behind the ears, both Elf and horses had calmed down and come back to Gimli. Legolas looked so happy that Gimli had to work hard at being irritated at how long he had been kept waiting, but Arod trotted at his heels, shaking his head and snorting in delight. Other horses followed, gently pushing at each other to get close to Legolas.
By now the horse-herders had slowly come down from their stone huts and approached them. They nodded and smiled and spoke in slow, rolling tones that were like the soft hills and mist-blurred valleys of the Lebinnin. They had never seen an Elf or Dwarf but heard of the heroes of the War and the great companions of the new King and so shared their supper willingly in exchange for tall tales that Gimli told with great shamelessness, claiming that he had killed twice the number of Orcs that he had. The herders were in awe of Legolas' acrobatics and foolishness, as Gimli described it, and Legolas walked with the oldest of the Men for a while amongst the herd, telling him what the quiet, patient beasts could not tell him themselves and imparting much knowledge, for one could not live as long as Legolas amongst horses and not know everything there was to know.
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They left fast friends, with refilled wine skins and provisions pressed upon them by the horse herders, and Gimli's reputation as a very great warrior was at least as great as Legolas' for his horse knowledge.
They did not rush back as they had not rushed the journey here but instead let Arod and the three horses that returned with them amble and graze where they would. The air was warm and beside them the river slid quietly through the valley and willows dipped their fronds into the dark water.
'We should have brought Frodo,' Gimli observed from where he sat astride Arod and behind Legolas.
Legolas half-glanced back over his shoulder but said nothing. As they ambled along, he watched the swirls and eddies, the white froth of water against the sand as it rippled in and out with the flow of the river and only half-listened as the Dwarf rambled on about this and that, but he was thinking of other things: of Elrohir, of the smoothness of his hair, its straightness, the gleam of it, his grey eyes that could be stormy with passion or like starlight when he looked upon Legolas with love. How he loved Elrohir, wanted him here and now. But when he was with him, anxiety prickled his fingertips. Only since he had been returned from the tombs though. It must be a residue from his captivity, he thought.
He blinked and shied away from that, unwilling to dwell on the horror of his experience, and thought of other things. The Fellowship, Arod, the sight of all the allies of Aragorn assembling at his wedding. Elrond. But he kept coming back to the unease he felt in Elrohir's company.
Yôzâira.
It was not the first time he had been a gift for Elrohir….a lure. He rubbed his eyes.
'Are you listening, Legolas?'
'Of course,' Legolas said and knew it had been too quick for he felt Gimli tut.
'Then what was I saying?'
Legolas knew that Gimli would realise where his thoughts drifted, and would worry. And he did not want to speak his thoughts aloud for it would be to admit them, make them more real.
He felt Gimli breathe in deeply and then, as if the dwarf knew exactly what he had been thinking, Gimli said, 'Tush, doesn't matter, laddie. I was just blathering on.'
Arod shook his head free of a fly that had been bothering him and wandered towards the river bank where he lowered his head to drink. The three other horses followed him, one tearing the grass and waiting for the others to move over. It was utterly peaceful.
Legolas suddenly missed Aragorn. 'Aragorn would have loved being out here with us.'
'I think he has better company at night,' Gimli said cheerily and stretched out his legs on either side of Legolas. 'Let's walk for a bit, Legolas. My legs are getting stiff,' he said.
The sun was slowly easing into late afternoon and the warmth made the horses drowsy. They plodded slowly after the Elf and Dwarf, eating grass and weeds and wildflowers where they would and Legolas was in no rush either. Gimli strolled beside him, head bowed thoughtfully and Legolas knew the Dwarf wanted to talk really about his imprisonment, to make sure he was all right. He was not, of course. But he was better than he had been and stronger every day.
Afternoon slipped into evening and they stopped at a likely place by the river where the willows dipped their fronds into the water and the shoreline was low enough for the horses to drink when they wanted to. It was a warm evening and swallows still swooped in the sky.
Legolas unslung his bow and harness of knives, leaning them carefully against a tree and then took himself down to the river to fish, while Gimli busied himself with a fire.
Later, as the stars wheeled in the sky and both leaned back, replete with the trout Legolas had caught, gutting and scaling it without a thought. Gimli was smoking his pipe and pleased that the smoke kept away the little midgies that would bite him otherwise though they did not seem to enjoy biting Legolas at all, which Gimli kept saying was very unfair. The horses stood close by, swishing their tails and leaning towards Gimli for they also hated the midges.
Legolas felt the earth warm beneath him as it turned to the Summer. The grass was lush and the trees in full leaf, waving slightly in the warm breeze. A scent teased him slightly, salt and the sea. He knew it for what it was and listened to the stirring of his heart in peace, not like he had in the cell when he merely sought relief from the horror…
He had only ever seen the Long Lake with its grey water gleaming, a silver sheen under the low sun and little waves rippling against the sedge. It was the closest to the sea he could imagine… but an image recurred, it had come to him as he had despaired in the cell…
…a full sail bowed in the wind, and gulls swirled around the mast, white wings gleaming in the sun and the sough of the waves against the ship's bow. Ahead of him, someone turned, earth-brown eyes smiling in a weathered face, a white silk beard.
It had felt like a blessing at the time and had given him comfort. But he could not see Elrohir in the dream and no matter how much he tried to conjure the image of his beloved, raven-black hair pulled back by the wind and his eyes reflecting the grey of the sea, it slipped away from him and he could not hold on to the image of Elrohir standing on the deck with Gimli.
He twirled a small twig between his fingers distractedly.
It was strange. He loved Elrohir, wanted him with a desperate passion, but when Legolas was with him, there was that fear, a sort of anxiety that prickled his fingertips…
Gimli threw a few more sticks on the fire so it crackled cheerfully. 'We could do with a good mug of ale right now,' he said. Legolas looked up, glad of the distraction and reached over to his pack, dragging a skin from between the bedrolls and cloaks.
'Here. Not ale but wine,' he said. 'The horsemen filled it for us.'
Gimli took it and unstoppered the flask, sniffed it suspiciously. 'Smells like horse piss.'
Legolas laughed. 'Probably IS horse piss,' he said, amused.
But Gimli sipped it, made a face and passed it back to Legolas. 'Gandalf thought the Nazgûl would retrieve Khamûl's ring, didn't he?' the Dwarf said without preamble.
Legolas breathed in sharply and threw a sideways look at the Dwarf. He could hardly bear even the thought of Khamûl, but he could not shy away from it forever.
'They searched for Angmar's ring, remember?' Gimli continued thoughtfully. 'Is it not strange that they did not retrieve Khamûl's ring also? If that was what Bearos had, that is.'
Slowly, Legolas became aware that there was a horrible prickling in his fingertips, like when the Nazgul were present. But they were not, surely?. They were far away and trapped forever in the Dark…As long as Elrohir had Aícanaro. 'It was Khamûl's ring,' he admitted to Gimli at last. 'Bearos showed it to me. Gloated.' He breathed, forced himself to calm, slowly, letting the panic ebb away. I am Legolas Thranduillion, he reminded himself as Elrond had. As he had in the cell. On the Mindolluin. I am here on the riverbank with Gimli and Arod. He opened his eyes and looked up at the evening stars that pricked out slowly, one by one and which he thought at one time he would never see again. But I am here, he told himself. I am here.
He drank deeply from the wine skin. It was rough and sharp but he didn't care.
Gimli went on speculatively, 'They risked a lot leaving the ring there. What if it were never found, and the Glass had been left in the old city?'
Legolas looked up towards the mountains, the tall peak that was the Mindolluin and shuddered. A cold sense of dread settled like a stone in the pit of his belly.
Gimli's warm brown eyes settled upon Legolas thoughtfully and pipe smoke coiled in the air around him, grey smoke spiraling upwards.
It reminded Legolas of something, but he could not quite grasp it for the memory of it skittered away like a live thing and he could not quite remember.
'Gandalf hurt Bearos,' Gimli said quietly. 'When we were trying to find you. He was brutal. I never thought I would see it but he was…But Bearos would only speak to Elrohir.' Gimli's voice was low.
Gimli's words pricked Legolas uneasily. The Nazgûl had always wanted Elrohir. Ravéyön, they had called him on the ramparts of Minas Tirith, the night after the battle that freed Minas Tirith. 'He was their way out of the Glass,' he told Gimli. 'Aícanaro can cut through anything apparently. It can break the Glass.'. He drank again, barely tasting the rough wine, wiping his mouth with his hand. There was not much left in it now.
'Can it now?' Gimli puffed on his pipe. 'Is that its secret? I knew there was something.' He glanced at Legolas gently. 'They wanted to force him to break the Glass then.'
'Bearos used me to… as a lure…to force him to act.' Legolas rubbed a hand over his eyes. 'But he would not. He cheated them.'
They both fell silent for a while. Above them a meteorite burned up, a trail of silver in its wake. Nearby they could hear the horses moving softly through the long grass, tearing up the blades, munching rhythmically.
Legolas' fingers snapped the twig he had been fiddling with into little pieces and then he threw them into the fire, a frisson of anger rippled through him. It was not fair! This should have been a time of peace and he should be enjoying Elrohir, not frightened of him!
Gimli gave Legolas a deep look. 'Tell me to mind my beard, Legolas, but you seem to be in no rush to return to Elrohir, my friend..'
Legolas looked at him sharply. 'What do you mean?'
But he could not deny the truth of it. His elation had been at leaving the city, not at returning, and Gimli knew him well enough to detect his hesitation. He sighed and looked down at the broken twigs he had been fiddling with a moment ago. But this was Gimli, his dear friend, as dear as Anglach and he would have told Anglach everything. 'I am not myself just yet,' he confessed.
Gimli gave a quiet little grunt of sympathy and concern. 'Of course not, Legolas. You are doing very well but what happened to you…it was horrible. A lesser man would have been destroyed. But you, here you are! Whole and laughing and entertaining a grumpy dwarf.'
'I have been given great gifts that have helped me,' Legolas said grateful to leave the topic of Elrohir. "Elrond is truly the greatest healer, his words to me made me see myself as I truly am again. And Cûlanthûl.' His eyes went to the great bow that he had leaned carefully against a tree. 'Elrohir gave it to me, but he had it from Celeborn.'
'Aye, that is a great gift indeed.' Gimli's pipe had gone out and he puffed hard to get the pipeweed to catch.
'But even that is not as great as the gift of Ale Gezên-aozh,' Legolas said warmly. He meant it too. The dwarf-forged blades made him feel safe, like Gimli himself stood at his back. He had made sure he pronounced the words correctly as well, making Gimli say them for him over and over so he honoured them. It mattered, he knew.
Gimli smiled and leaned back. Hot fragrant smoke filled his mouth and he nodded at Legolas. 'I am pleased that you appreciate the mastery of the craft,' he said smugly. 'I think they are my greatest work so far.'
Legolas smiled and said, 'There is dwarvish magic in them that I do not understand.' His hand stroked over the hilt on the nearest, the emerald eyes glowed as if it reacted to his own warmth.
Gimli blew out a thin stream of pipesmoke. 'They have the same metallurgy as Orcrist. I studied that blade when I was doing my mastery piece,' he explained . 'But even then I did not uncover all its secrets. It was only when I got to Rivendell and had time with elven smiths of such skill. Forgive me, Legolas, but your own Woodland smiths make horse shoes and arrow heads, swords that are serviceable.' He grinned so that Legolas could not take offence. 'But in Rivendell, there are those who survived Ost-in-Edhel and they shared with me their great secrets and I with them. They are true masters of fire and forge,' he said admiringly. 'I have been looking forward to a chance to use those secrets.' He smiled at the remembered delight in shared knowledge, in the delight of Making. 'It was an even greater pleasure that I made them for you.'
Legolas knew he was being honoured. He gazed at the plain brown leather sheaths. No one would guess that they harboured such particular and precious blades. 'So the gleam of blue that shines along the edge sometimes, is that the same as Orcrist? Is it some Dwarvish blessing?'
Gimli shot him a look and put his pipe to one side, frowning. 'The zirak-galthol is the process by which one makes such a sword.' Gimli held out his hand for the plain brown leather sheath. 'The zirak-galthol imprints a…a … ' He struggled for the words in Westron and then frowned. 'Let me try to explain it more simply. Frodo's little sword, Sting, has a biocatalyst incorporated at the point of ziram in its making. It is this that reacts to one of the mutated genes in Orcs and the reaction is the blue fire that we call the ziram-khazar-gûthrim, which is the effect of the zirak-galthol.' He clicked his tongue in slight frustration. 'I do not think there are the words in Westron and I cannot explain to you, Legolas, without having to instruct you in all the work of sword-making and metallurgy. And much as I love you, I do not think that even I can teach you.'
Legolas laughed slightly. 'That is fair. I am afraid that I was not the most dedicated student, and my poor father despaired. So does the zirak-galthul show the presence of Orcs like Sting does?'
'Ziram-khazar-gûthrim,' Gimli corrected softly as he pulled the blade smoothly from the plain sheath. 'That is the blue fire. The process is called zirak-galthol. Let me just look at these, see what is happening. They should react with greater sensitivity than Sting.'
There was the familiar sharp little whisper of warning and protection, and the steel blades gleamed silver and the runes were molten in the moonlight. But there was no rill of blue.
Legolas leaned forwards, puzzled. 'It is not showing now. How strange.' He shook his head.
Gimli pushed the blade back into the sheath. 'Give me the other.' He pulled it out and examined it carefully. Again, the whisper of protection but no blue light.
A nasty little suspicion began to niggle at the back of Legolas' mind. 'Do you mean that the blue light is to show that something has been touched by Morgoth somehow?'
'Not as simple as that but not far off,' Gimli answered. 'It recognizes a …signature if you like, that has imprinted itself in the galathôl-gundizhar.' He pushed the blade back into its sheath. 'I am sorry Legolas. There just are not the words in Westron to explain things in a way that you would understand.' He looked at Legolas in concern. 'Where were you when the ziram-khazar-gûthrim reacted?'
Legolas ignored his question for the moment for suddenly his thoughts cleared and everything began to make sense. 'Do you mean it would glow blue like Sting if there were Orcs?' Gimli nodded. 'Or if they were in the presence of a Ring? Like Khamûl?' Legolas asked urgently.
Gimli looked up from the knives, his eyes focused and intent. 'It would certainly detect the presence of one of the Rings of Power touched by Sauron,' he said quickly.
Panic seized Legolas and he sprang to his feet. He kicked out the fire and scooped up his knives and bow. 'I told you how Bearos gloated over the Ring. He showed it to me, kept saying that they wanted Elrohir, Ravéyön. But when I struck Bearos down, there was no Ring on his hand. I am sure of that.'
'Then where is it?' Now Gimli too was on his feet. 'Are you saying that Elrohir has it?'
'We have to go,' Legolas said brusquely. He whistled to the horses who emerged from the shadows with bright, curious eyes. 'Gimli, come on.'
The Dwarf was already hefting his axe and knocking out his pipe on the tree. He stuffed it into his pocket and stumped towards Legolas. 'Legolas! Does Elrohir have the Ring?'
Legolas had already swung up onto Arod and reached down to Gimli. He pulled the Dwarf up behind him. 'I think so,' he said quickly. 'The …what did you call it?'
'Ziram-khazar-gûthrim.'
'That. The night of the wedding, I went to his rooms and showed him the Ale Gezên-aozh. When he drew them, there was that...ziram-khazad- thing, it flared along the blades. It is the only time I have seen it.'
Gimli tightened his grip on Legolas' waist. 'Ziram-khazar-gûthrim,' he murmured out of habit. 'Then there is something there that the blades have reacted to, be it the Ring or some other artefact. But what that might be I do not know.'
Legolas clenched his teeth. 'I cannot believe I did not ask what happened to the Ring! Fool!' he berated himself angrily. 'I was so relieved to be free, so anxious to forget what had happened, so glad that Bearos was dead that I did not ask!'
He urged Arod into a slow, careful canter along the wide grassy track and the moonlight was clear and bright, but his heart was full of trepidation and despair.
Too late! He knew he was already too late.
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