Title: Choosing Friends (1/?)
Author:  Mcguffan 
anne_robbins@yahoo.com
Rating:  NC 17 
Pairing: A/L
Summary: Elves and dwarves don’t get along which leads to problems in Moria.
Notes: Please review.  Feedback is most welcome.


I rode toward Rivendell at a frenzied speed.  Resting only long enough for my 
horse to recover his strength before pushing onward.  The wind itself seemed to 
urge me to an even greater pace and the birds sang of a quickness to match the 
beating of my heart.  For long months I had wandered listlessly through the 
shaded paths and dense forests of Mirkwood awaiting a sign.  Had I had to wait 
much longer I might have taken matters into my own hands for I ached with an 
urgency that was painful to suppress.  I knew the world was on the threshold of 
great events and I knew that my beloved’s destiny hung upon those events.  I was 
desperate to be by his side.  Gollum’s escape proved to be my perfect opportunity 
and in this case evil happened to serve a good purpose for soon I would be with 
Aragorn. 

Despite the clear obligation to bring news of the escape to Elrond and Gandalf I 
was nervous about asking my father’s permission to depart.  Beneath the facade of 
a cold courtesy roiled a deep animosity between Thranduil and the lord of 
Imladris and I foresaw that my father would be reluctant to inform Elrond at all 
much less to send his son as messenger.  To my surprise, though, my father gave 
me his blessing sensing and altogether misunderstanding the reasoning behind my 
yearning to go:

“I know why you wish to depart the lush beauty and quiet serenity of your home, 
my son, and it has naught to do with that disgusting creature I foolishly agreed to 
look after.”  My father announced from his throne when I had come to ask his 
leave to travel to Rivendell.

“My lord, you know that I have always loved travel beyond the common 
measure.”  I had answered concealing my nervousness beneath a calm exterior.

“That is true and you are young enough to still take pleasure in adventuring but 
there is more to it than the mere restlessness of youth.”  He said and his tone was 
sly.

I gave Thranduil a politely curious look as though I was calmly awaiting the 
benefit of his wisdom even as I felt my pulse quickening.

“The one who brought that wretched Gollum creature to us was comely enough 
for a man, but then I am certain you noticed that, my son.  It seemed to me that 
you two had met before and the man for his part was quite taken with you.  
Really, how could it be otherwise?”

I swallowed hard before trying to explain in such a way that the king would allow 
me to leave.  “Father, I-”
“Don’t worry, my prince.  Elves have been tumbling mortals throughout the ages.  
Even I have allowed myself to become diverted by the occasional human.  Only 
one word of warning would I offer you: Men being as they are weak and 
possessed of passionate emotions naturally fall deeply in love with us being as we 
are beautiful in both body and soul almost beyond their comprehension.  Thus, 
when you tire of your little friend it will most certainly break his heart.  Be as 
gentle as you can be for I understand this mortal is remote kin to Elrond and I 
believe Elrond- in his eccentricity- even styles him his foster son.”  My father said 
gleefully.

I had almost laughed aloud, as it all suddenly became clear to me.  My father 
imagined that I would treat Aragorn as Mirkwood’s king treated his own lovers.  
Thus, Thranduil assumed, when I inevitably ceased to be interested in Aragorn, 
Aragorn would be devastated and Elrond, Thranduil’s ancient enemy, would be 
hurt in either his pride or his heart depending upon whether Elrond truly loved his 
foster son.  The king of Mirkwood had hopelessly misjudged the situation, 
however, for I knew that I loved Aragorn truly and hopelessly.  If I ever had to 
choose between my father and my beloved I knew what my choice would be and 
though I was saddened that the choice was so easy I did not regret it.

“I promise I will not break his heart.”  I told my father the smallest smile tugging 
at my lips.

“Well then, go my son.  Pursue your pleasure and return to us in your own time.  I 
tell you, Legolas, for myself, this world has increasingly less to offer and my 
thoughts drift ever to the Grey Havens and peace.  But it pleases me that you still 
can find delight on these shores.”  With that my father descended from his throne 
to embrace me fondly.  I returned the embrace with affection.  Next I bowed low 
as was proper for an elf taking leave of his lord and father.  Then I turned away 
from Mirkwood with an easy heart.

As the miles disappeared beneath me I felt a stab of melancholy that my father 
could not recognize the great love between Aragorn and myself.  I wished for 
Thranduil’s understanding though I had long since realized that I could survive 
without it.  After all, it was no defect in my relationship with Aragorn that my 
father could not see it for what it was.  Thranduil loved his children and all his 
kindred but in all his long years he had not found among his many spouses, 
consorts, concubines, lovers, paramours or trysting partners one who was worthy 
of his heart and he probably never would.  ‘It is difficult for an elf to see in others 
what he does not possess in himself’ I thought as I rode west with the sun, 
towards Rivendell, towards Aragorn.
*
I arrived in my beloved’s childhood home late in the day.  I looked about me and 
found the usually quiet and peaceful environs bustling with activity.  Elves 
roamed about in small close groups, which was a little unusual.  My curiosity was 
satisfied however, as my nose wrinkled faintly in disgust when I realized that 
dwarves were also present.  I tried not to share my father’s prejudice against 
Elrond but it pushed the bounds of decency to allow the heavy, clumsy tread of 
dwarves in these fair forests.  No wonder my fellow elves preferred to cluster 
together.  Who wished to share breathing space with dwarves?  Still inspecting 
my surroundings I caught sight of a northern ranger, a hard, lean man who- even 
in the safety of Imladris- moved in stealth, clinging to the shadows.  I 
contemplated greeting the man for I had accompanied Aragorn as he led these 
men on several expeditions and it was ever my purpose to show myself courteous 
to Aragorn’s closest followers.  In the end, however, I did not approach the man 
for I was too anxious to find his captain.

As I made my way toward Elrond’s audience chamber the crowd thinned 
somewhat.  I recognized and nodded greeting to several elves I had seen on other 
visits to Rivendell.  I had almost reached my destination when I saw another man 
but this was no ranger.  He was tall as the rangers tended to be but he was also 
broad and his hair was blond though with more red in it than my own hair.  Also 
his dress was unusual: the fabric rich and heavy.  There was nothing quiet or 
stealthy about him and though he was obviously a warrior I guessed he counted 
upon his size and brute strength rather than on speed or finesse.  The man 
appeared to be at something of a loss though his natural self-assurance seemed to 
mitigate his confusion somewhat.  In momentary sympathy with the man I gave 
him a slight smile of reassurance.  His eyes widened in surprise before he returned 
a very cautious smile just as I passed him.  Elves, after all, are known for their 
courtesy not for their friendliness but I sensed the nearness of Aragorn and I felt a 
friend to all the world.

Pride and confidence flowed over my features as I approached Elrond.  Though, I 
kept my eyes upon the lord of Imladris I took in the presence of Mithrandir, 
Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen and at last my Aragorn.  I treated it as a personal 
challenge to keep my attention focused on Elrond as I bowed and announced 
myself: “Lord Elrond, I bring from my king and father, Thranduil of Mirkwood 
greetings and sincerest wishes for the health and happiness of you and yours.”  
The platitudes tripped easily from my tongue.  Elrond taking the empty phrases 
for what they were signed for me to continue.

“Alas, it is with deep sorrow that I come to tell you that the creature, Gollum, left 
in Mirkwood’s care, has escaped us.”  I informed my audience and the guilt in my 
voice came more from the fact that I was not in the least sorry Gollum had 
escaped since it meant that I was able to come to Rivendell.

With my announcement I felt my audience’s interest grow.  I gave a full account 
of Gollum’s keeping and of his escape.  I forced myself not to skim over any 
details but the talk seemed interminable.  Finally, I had said all that could be said.  
Not even permitting myself a sigh of relief I waited with seeming patience as 
Elrond pondered.

“These are grave tidings, Prince Legolas.”  Elrond spoke to me as always with 
cautious formality.  I was both his enemy’s son and his foster son’s lover.  He 
could not treat me with warmth because of the former fact nor with coldness 
because of the latter truth.  “We are holding a council tomorrow wherein many 
matters will be discussed.  Your presence there would be most welcome.  In the 
meantime enjoy the hospitality of Rivendell.”

With those words the obligations of protocol were satisfied and Aragorn stepped 
from his place between Mithrandir and Arwen to embrace me.  “I have missed 
you, my hope.”  I breathed into his ear as I wrapped my arms around his narrow 
waist and rubbed my cheek against his scratchy and exotic beard.

“And I you.”  came the quiet reply.  I knew the embrace would be all too brief for 
though Aragorn was always loving and usually passionate he tended to be 
somewhat reserved in public so I squeezed tightly and inhaled deeply so that I 
could hold out until we were alone.  As I had known he would Aragorn pulled 
back after a mere few seconds had passed.  Mithrandir took my beloved’s place 
before me offering a handshake and a shoulder clasp.  I concealed my 
disappointment quickly; however, I did feel a certain fondness for Mithrandir.  
Though, I had to admit that the fondness was most likely due to the fact I rarely 
met the wizard save when he was in Aragorn’s company.

As Mithrandir stepped aside Arwen came forward: “Welcome, brother.”  Our lips 
met briefly in greeting and my smile was more genuine.  Arwen’s approval meant 
a great deal.  She would be partnered with Aragorn.  Like the moon with the sun 
they were connected.  Arwen would oversee the elves as our power in this realm 
waned and we faded from middle earth.  Aragorn would rule over men as their 
star climbed into ascendancy.  Their union would be a bridge between the ages 
and their children would represent the best qualities of men and elves.  They were 
destined to be partners and I knew Arwen could easily cause trouble for Aragorn 
and myself if she wished to.  Instead she called me ‘brother’ thus recognizing me 
as Aragorn’s chosen love.  Elladan and Elrohir also came forward to shake my 
hand though the twins, like their father, were less inclined to welcome me with 
open arms.

“You have had a long journey, Legolas.  Aragorn and I will escort you to a place 
where you may rest and refresh yourself.”  Arwen linked arms first with me then 
with Aragorn and proceeded to lead us out of the chamber into the corridor.  

“Well, brother, you have arrived just in time.  Estel worried that he would not see 
you before he set out to destroy the ring for it has been determined that the ring 
must be destroyed.  The council is only a formality which we proceed with for the 
sake of father and Mithrandir’s conscience.”  Arwen said as she led the way to 
Aragorn’s rooms where I would be staying.

“Of course I arrived in time.  The Valar would have permitted nothing less.”  I 
replied with certainty.  There were things that the universe would simply reject as 
contrary to nature and the benevolent forces behind nature and my separation 
from Aragorn was one of them.

“You have such faith, Legolas.”  Aragorn said and it was joy just to listen to his 
voice.  “I am very glad you are here.”

“We shall have a great deal of time together since we are going to destroy the 
ring.”  I said, smiling my happiness.

I heard the steady rhythm of Aragorn’s steps on the flagstones falter for just a 
moment. “Legolas, there will be perils on this journey that I would not gladly see 
you encounter.”  Aragorn said quietly.

“These are indeed troubled times where danger is ever near.”  I said completely 
ignoring any implication that Aragorn might rather I stayed at home.  Of course, I 
knew that there would be peril as Aragorn said.  I had heard of the one ring and its 
propensity to work malice, although it had always seemed a remote almost 
fanciful thing.  Still, I meant to accompany Aragorn, danger or no.  Aragorn 
sighed, but he did not press the subject.  He accepted my decision.
We had just arrived at Aragorn’s door and Arwen was preparing to excuse herself 
when there came from behind us the sound of someone clearing his throat.  I had 
heard footsteps approach but I had assumed it was merely an elf on some errand 
or other.  As the three of us turned around, however, I saw no elf but a creature 
about half my height with large hairy feet and a plump, pleasant face.  I knew the 
creature for a hobbit though I have never been this close to one before.  I studied 
the hobbit’s features with frank curiosity and the creature returned my gaze with 
equal curiosity colored with awe.

“Master Samwise, allow me to introduce Prince Legolas of Mirkwood.  Your 
highness, this is Master Samwise Gamgee of the Shire.”  Aragorn said gesturing 
to Samwise and myself as he introduced us each in turn.

As I was introduced the hobbit flushed pink and executed the most awkward, 
charming bow I had ever seen.  It was with great effort that I kept my face straight 
as I caught the glint of amusement in Aragorn’s eye.  “Pleased to make your 
acquaintance, I’m sure, your highness.”

I bowed in my turn.  “Call me Legolas, my lord Aragorn was overly formal in his 
introduction, Master Samwise.  This is the first time I have met a hobbit and I am 
glad of the experience.”

Samwise stood with his hands behind his back, shifting his weight from one large 
foot to the other still pink to the tips of his pointed ears staring at me.  “Is there 
something I may do for you, Sam?”  Aragorn asked gently and his words broke 
the hobbit from his trance.

“Begging your pardon Mr. Strider, sir, I don’t mean to be disturbing you and Miss 
Arwen and um Mr. Legolas but I was just checking on Master Frodo, you know to 
see if he had everything he needed and all, and Master Frodo said as how he had a 
bit of a headache.  I suggested he might like some of that tea you made up, you 
remember it was just after he woke when he was still feeling a bit dizzy.  Well, 
Master Frodo reckoned that it probably would help but- you know how he is- he 
thought it better not to trouble you.  Well, I thought ‘Mr. Strider has always been 
good to us hobbits and Master Frodo special so he wouldn’t take to the idea of 
Master Frodo suffering in silence and whatnot so I’ll just go and ask him and if it 
is a lot of bother he’ll just say ‘no’ and no offense taken.’” The hobbit finished his 
narrative and looked up at Aragorn expectantly.

“Quite right, Sam.”  Aragorn said, smiling at the little creature.  “We are fortunate 
to have you to look after Frodo’s interests so well.”  Aragorn gave me a look, 
which was half an apology and half a promise of things to come and followed 
Sam up the corridor.

“Shall I leave you to get settled in, then?”  Arwen asked, radiating sympathy.

“No, Arwen, stay with me a while.  I want to hear all about this Frodo and his 
devoted companion.”  I requested as I entered Aragorn’s- our sitting room.

“There actually are four of them here in all.”  Arwen began gaily.  I listened 
fascinated as Arwen told me of the arduous journey of a northern ranger and four 
young hobbits.  She told me of the attack of the Naz-gul and the race to get the 
injured ringbearer, Frodo to Rivendell.  Though the story alarmed me very much I 
was glad I had the opportunity to hear if from Arwen for I knew Aragorn would 
have downplayed the danger to himself if he told the story at all.

“I suppose, then, it makes sense that Aragorn would be careful of Frodo’s health 
since he is the ringbearer.”  I told Arwen with some relief for in all truth I had felt 
a little abandoned at being left so abruptly so Aragorn could follow Sam’s mass of 
sandy curls.

“Yes, I am afraid the little ones have managed to trigger every protective instinct 
our Aragorn possesses.  They are so small, helpless and trusting so much like 
children “ Arwen answered.

“Our Aragorn’s protective instincts could be triggered by a troll in the right 
circumstances.”  I said with affection.

Arwen laughed merrily but she must have read something wistful in my eyes or 
caught the faint mournfulness in my voice when I had repeated her phrase: ‘our 
Aragorn’ for she fell silent and rested her hand on my arm.  “He does not feel 
about me the way he feels about you, Legolas.”  Elves pride themselves upon 
being masters of their emotions and it was a blow to realize how easily Arwen 
read my fear.

“I know.”  I said, my voice quiet.  Aragorn had said so many times and I believed 
him.  Still I would have preferred it had Aragorn and Arwen been close kin.  I 
understood the love between a brother and a sister.  Indeed, my father had tried to 
teach me that the love of family was the only real love.  I also understood the love 
of two people drawn together by erotic passion and soul deep understanding, but 
neither ties of blood nor romantic love bound Aragorn and Arwen and this left me 
confused.

Arwen reached to take my hands in hers kneeling before my chair.  “In some 
ways my marriage to Aragorn will be political in that it will be a benefit to both 
our peoples.  I dislike using the term, however, since most political marriages tend 
to degrade everyone involved but in our case my strengths and Aragorn’s 
complement each other and each of us can compensate for the other’s 
weaknesses.  More than that, Legolas, Aragorn and I are great friends.  We trust 
each other and we will look after one another.  But no one who saw you two 
together could doubt that you were Aragorn’s one true love.”

I smiled to show my gratitude, though; I only dimly understood all the nuances of 
the sort of relationship she described.  “Ah, sister, you ease my foolish worries.”  
I said squeezing her hands for strangely I was reassured and in truth it would not 
have diminished my love for Aragorn in the least no matter what there was 
between him and Arwen.  I was seeking after troubles that would never come to 
pass.  Aragorn returned to the room not long after.  If he wondered what Arwen 
and I had been discussing so earnestly and so close together he gave no sign.  “I 
am sorry about the delay.  Frodo was having a little trouble getting to sleep.  I 
believe he is nervous about tomorrow.”

“It will be a big day for him and for all middle earth.  I daresay we could all do 
with some rest.”  So saying Arwen rose smoothly to her feet and wished us both 
good night as she glided from the room.  The door had not quite clicked shut 
behind her when Aragorn swept me into his arms and began kissing me with 
reckless intensity.
*
I woke the next morning sensing movement next to me.  I blinked several times to 
allow my eyes to regain their focus though I did not stir.  I watched idly as 
Aragorn rose from our bed and padded around the room, putting on a clean pair of 
trousers and washing his face.  “Why begin the day so early?  Bide with me a 
while.”  I said before any more of his beautiful frame could be lost behind layers 
of clothing.  As an inducement I stretched my limbs sinuously, rubbing my palm 
over the thin layer of silk that partially covered my naked body.

Eyes burning, Aragorn bent to catch my mouth in a searing kiss before breaking 
away again to retrieve a richly embroidered tunic.  “I would dearly love to spend 
the entire morning here with you, beloved, but I have promised Elrond that until 
the council convened I would see that the dwarves received a full measure of our 
hospitality without being drawn into any quarrel.”  Aragorn said sounding only a 
little husky.

“Better you than me.”  I sniffed rising to my knees on the bed so that I could 
adjust the tunic he had chosen.

“That is exactly what Elrond said.”  Aragorn laughed wrapping his arms around 
my waist.

“Stay with me a while.  Even dwarves know better than to antagonize elves here 
in one of the centers of our power just before an important meeting, my hope.”  I 
whispered leaning into him.

“The dwarves are only half the probl-”  Aragorn began rather cryptically before I 
closed my mouth over his smothering any more words.  His arms tightened 
around my waist and my fingers twisted through his thick dark hair pressing him 
closer to me.

With a great effort Aragorn broke away from me for a second time.  “My love, I 
fear we are all doomed.  How am I to resist the one ring when I cannot resist 
you?”  Aragorn asked.

“First, my beautiful man, I am much more attractive than any ring.  Second, you 
are making a very convincing semblance of resisting me.”  I said sitting back on 
my heels.

Aragorn smiled but it did not touch his eyes.  He had spoken in jest and I had 
answered him in kind but the fear behind his words was genuine.  My beloved 
took the weakness of his ancestor as a personal sin in need of expiation.  To that 
end he treated all his desires with mistrust and believed that the course that would 
deny him personal happiness was the course most likely to prove morally correct.  
It had taken me long years to understand this for it was so different for elves 
whose only duty was happiness.

“The ring will hold no power over you, my liege lord.”  I said with perfect 
confidence, silently renewing my vow to give to Aragorn a joy untainted with the 
bitterness of guilt or regret.

“I am not that, Legolas.”

“You will be.” I said with easy certainty.  To my eyes the mantle of leadership, of 
kingship already surrounded him and I marveled that my beloved, so clear-sighted 
at other times, did not see it.  

I could see the battle raging behind Aragorn’s eyes.  He wanted to argue with me 
and I was ready to spend the entire day, all eternity if necessary convincing him of 
his worth and value but Aragorn’s rational self-control finally reasserted itself 
banishing, if only temporarily, the doubts and fears that haunted him.  

“I love you.”  He said finally bending to place a soft kiss on the top of my head.

The gesture seemed a little odd to me but I accepted the affection with my usual 
equanimity.  “I love you, too”

A few moments later Aragorn was dressed and on his way to nurse maid the pack 
of wretched dwarves.
*
I had spent the morning among the gardens telling the flowers of my contentment 
and the joys of love. When the time of the council arrived I had drunk deeply of 
the sunshine and I was bolstered by the good wishes of the lush greenery and 
multicolored blossoms.  The meeting began with introductions and the recitation 
of events I already knew.  After repeating my own story I studied the hobbit, 
Frodo.  He was indeed very childlike but there was something especially delicate 
about him and I sensed he was marked for great suffering.

Eventually the ring was brought forth and there was a hush followed by a murmur 
of wonder and fear.  Even my eye was drawn to it and I felt the cold loop of metal 
to be beautiful and terrible.  Above the murmurs someone began to speak.  It was 
the blond man I had noticed yesterday and who had been introduced as Boromir.  
The man spoke of using the ring against the Enemy and his passion shone like a 
beacon.  Such was his enthusiasm that Aragorn felt it necessary to rein in the 
steward’s son.  To my surprise the man did not return quietly to his seat after 
hearing his lord’s judgment as any well-bred elf would have done.

The effrontery was unbelievable but with Boromir’s next words I realized that he 
was genuinely ignorant of Aragorn’s identity.  I rose swiftly.  I corrected the 
man’s misapprehension rather harshly then restraining my temper I told Boromir 
who it was he addressed.  It was hard to imagine that the man had not recognized 
Aragorn on sight.  It was most strange that this Boromir could be so blind.  Was 
he not the steward’s son and a leader of men in his own right?  I spoke as mildly 
as possible for I did not wish to add to the man’s inevitable embarrassment when 
he realized his error.

Boromir should have fallen to his knees upon the instant but he did not.  Instead 
Aragorn asked that I be seated.  I acquiesced and Boromir spat forth more 
impudence.  I supposed Aragorn wished to deal with the man in his own way 
without wasting the council’s time correcting his misbehaving subject.  Still I felt 
an irritation with the blond warrior made keener by a sense of betrayal for I had 
felt kindly towards the man yesterday.

As I mulled these thoughts a dwarf shattered his axe in a foolish attempt to 
destroy the ring.  Could he really have been so stupid as to believe that it would 
be that easy?  Why was the fool even allowed to carry his weapon here?  I felt my 
irritation mount.  The blond man was speaking again.  I had heard enough.  I do 
not remember the precise moment that I rose to my feet but I found myself nearly 
shouting.  Anger, close to rage, surged through me.

It was the fragile looking Frodo whose small voice broke the rising tide of 
argument.  I felt my fury drain away leaving me to wonder how I had become so 
enraged so quickly.  It was contrary to my nature.  I left pondering the mystery as 
Frodo volunteered to carry the ring to Mordor.  Gandalf quickly agreed to guide 
him and I wondered with the wisdom of experience that men never learn to expect 
from anyone so smooth-faced if the little ringbearer would have found himself on 
this mission whether he volunteered or no.  Neither Gandalf nor Elrond waited on 
chance or consensus when they made a decision they thought in the best interests 
of middle earth.

Aragorn’s offer came next.  He spoke with devotion and a humbleness that would 
have been more appropriate had he been “a mere ranger” and not the king-to-be.  
He went so far as to go to one knee before the hobbit pledging his protection.  My 
oath followed Aragorn’s, though I did not kneel.  I was an elf, after all, and I did 
not consider my pledge to be a personal vow to Frodo.  A dwarf, the one who 
broke his axe- Gimli if I had to guess, joined the group.  It was unpleasant but 
unavoidable dwarves always meddled.  I would have to be vigilant to keep our 
group from being endangered by any dwarfish foolishness.  Boromir also put 
himself forward and I saw motives both noble and base behind his eyes.  I was not 
certain what to make of the alloy.  Whatever it had been that had moved me so 
abruptly to anger might have moved the man to insubordination.  I did not wish to 
be precipitate so I decided I would withhold judgment for the present.  Time 
would reveal the man.

I had thought the company complete but last night’s intruder made another 
appearance.  The importunate Samwise broke from hiding to join the company.  I 
was pleased for I thought Frodo might need a bit of cosseting and I was glad Sam 
would be there to provide it rather than Aragorn.  Sam was not to be the last of 
our company, though.  As Arwen had said there were four hobbits in all and each 
was determined to journey with us.  I was not sure of the wisdom of this.  The 
little creatures were not warriors and they were used to their comforts.  Elrond, 
however, agreed to allow the two remaining hobbits to join what was now being 
called, very poetically, I thought- the fellowship of the ring.  Perhaps Elrond knew 
something of the small creatures that I did not.
*
The next few days were spent preparing for the journey.  The ringbearer still 
recovered from his shoulder wound.  I did not see much of the fragile hobbit as he 
tended to stay indoors.  I did exchange light conversation with the others of our 
company and found everyone to be reasonably pleasant, except for Mithrandir, 
called Gandalf by the hobbits, who was curmudgeonly in order to fulfil the 
expectations of the hobbits and Gimli the dwarf who could not rise above the 
limitations of his race.

I saw Aragorn rarely during the days as I honed my skill with bow and knife and 
he planned our routes, strategy and provisioning with Elrond and Gandalf.  We 
had the nights to ourselves, however, and we made the most of them.  Always our 
lovemaking was sweet and gentle but as the day of our departure approached 
Aragorn became increasingly intense.  I reveled in his fierceness and the mastery 
with which he drove my body to great heights of pleasure.  Yet to my 
consternation Aragorn always seemed to hold something back, as though he 
thought me somehow too delicate to experience the full measure of his passion.  I 
did not speak of this for there was little time and my heart was full of other words 
I wished to share.  Besides, though Aragorn had been raised in Rivendell Elrond 
had sheltered him from what men tend to think of as elfish excesses.  Thus, he 
could be strangely guarded about matters of intimacy.

Finally, the day of our departure dawned.  Frodo’s injury was as healed as well as 
could be expected and Boromir was filled with restlessness and a burning 
impatience to be off.  The dwarf was also anxious to leave Rivendell.  The 
presence of so much beauty no doubt scorched his withered soul.  I was not so 
eager.  I rose from the bed I shared with Aragorn with regret for I knew there 
would be little time for dalliance on our journey.  I had traveled with Aragorn 
before as he led his rangers hunting orcs and always he eschewed lovemaking as a 
potentially dangerous distraction.  Still elves were not men and I knew I would 
find much joy simply sharing his company, that is, I would if I could ignore the 
dwarf.

The first few days passed pleasantly.  We were in little danger so near to 
Rivendell so the party did not need to be extremely vigilant.  Merry and Pippin 
were filled with enthusiasm and their amiable chatter kept the fellowship in good 
spirits.  The two hobbits had completely charmed Boromir.  I remained unsure of 
the man, even though with the exception of the incident at the council Boromir 
always treated Aragorn with respect.  From time to time I caught him staring at 
my beloved or at the ring with the same expression, a mix of anger and longing.   
Such looks made me uneasy.  It was impossible, though, to harbor suspicion 
against Boromir while he chased and wrestled with the hobbit cousins or when he 
would walk by Aragorn’s side asking questions or simply listening to the older 
man’s wisdom.  Even so, I noticed that Frodo with Sam ever at his side kept his 
distance from Boromir preferring to hover near Gandalf or Aragorn provided 
Boromir was not with him.

For myself, I would speak or sing with all of the fellowship, though I avoided 
Frodo and the dwarf.  The hobbit was enshrouded in the ring’s seductive power 
and I dared not approach too close for my own safety’s sake lest the shadow touch 
me. Moreover, the ring sorely oppressed the fragile looking hobbit and elves do 
not bear suffering well either our own or that of others.  I could not endure the 
sight of the ringbearer struggling forward under the ring’s dark and heavy weight 
clinging to Samwise as though his life depended upon the other hobbit.  I felt the 
little one’s misery would drown me if I ventured too near.  Less sensitive than 
elves, however, Aragorn, Gandalf and of course Sam and the other hobbits 
comforted and soothed Frodo, lessening his unhappiness as much as they could.

The dwarf was an intolerable nuisance.  Though, I tried it was impossible in our 
close knit group to remain always away from him.  For his part the dwarf made no 
effort to stay out of my way as though he desired to arouse my contempt.  He was 
ever underfoot.  It was only loyalty to the fellowship which kept me from kicking 
him.  One evening in answer to Merry and Pippin’s desperate pleading for variety 
in our cuisine I consented to do a little hunting.  As I prepared to set forth the 
dwarf approached malice shining in his deep-set eyes.  “A bow is a coward’s 
weapon, of use only to those who do not wish to fight the enemy but only to deal 
death from a safe distance.”

Without bothering to turn my eyes to the dwarf I continued checking my 
weapons.  “Of course you believe that. Since you could not hit a barn at twenty 
paces you must tell yourself pretty lies to avoid the truth you cannot face.”  I kept 
my voice cool though better beings than this dwarf had died for lesser insults to 
the first-born.  

“At least I face my foe eye to eye and defeat him one warrior to another.  The 
bow is for thieves, highwaymen and elves.”  The dwarf spat the last word as 
though elves were the vilest of the list.  

I ignored the dwarf for a time, knowing that my calmness infuriated him.  This 
was not the first time the dwarf and I had exchanged harsh words.  The presence 
of such a creature was a bitter provocation in itself but when the courage of 
middle earth’s fairest race was brought into question I had no choice but to 
answer.  Still refusing to give the dwarf the courtesy of my full attention I noticed 
Gandalf glaring at us from behind a thick cloud of pipe smoke.  The wizard would 
have done better to save his hard looks for the dwarf alone for I had already 
shown greater restraint than any had a right to expect.  Merry and Pippin had 
retreated behind Boromir and were looking unhappily at one another.  Sam had 
taken up a protective stance in front of Frodo, his hands on his hips and his 
expression grim.  Frodo had turned his face away from us and had rested his head 
against Aragorn who was whispering softly into the ringbearer’s ear.

“Indeed?  Well, master dwarf if I were to fight you eye to eye I must needs learn 
to fight on my knees.”  I said casually as I left the camp to hunt.  I heard the 
dwarf’s furious muttering behind me and my heart was gladdened.  With words or 
weapons it was a simple task to best a dwarf.
*
The next night as we stopped to camp Aragorn called me and the dwarf to him.  I 
went with a light step and a lighter heart.  Though, Gandalf was officially our 
leader, the responsibilities of leadership rested largely with Aragorn.  It was he 
who saw to it the hobbits had enough to eat without depleting our rations too 
quickly.  He assigned night watches, always taking the lion’s share himself.  He 
found fresh water and chose the best place to ford a river or the easiest path 
through marshland.  Along with Boromir he carried the hobbits when they 
became exhausted or the terrain grew dangerous.  Throughout everything he 
always kept his patience, even when dealing with the dwarf.  I hoped that I would 
have the opportunity to be of some help to him, for so long as I lived Aragorn 
would never have to bear any burden alone.  The dwarf arrived after me his 
footsteps ponderous and to my sensitive ears unnecessarily discordant.

“I think we may safely have a fire.  Would you two gather fuel enough to last us 
through the night?”  Aragorn asked looking at the dwarf and myself with an 
appraising eye.

The words of consent had not had time to pass my lips before the dwarf spoke.  
“It does not take two to gather firewood, Aragorn.”  He said casting upon me a 
suspicious look.  The wretch should have been grateful for any task that would 
have benefitted the fellowship but he had to grumble about every little thing.

“The ground around here is rocky.  Fuel will likely be scarce.  Two searchers will 
shorten the task, master Gimli.”  Aragorn replied.
“If you are in such a hurry to find your bed this evening perhaps one of the 
hobbits would be willing to accept the task.”  I said pleasantly.

“I did not mean that.”  The dwarf told Aragorn who nodded to show he 
understood.  Then after another angry glance in my direction, the dwarf moved 
off to begin the search.  I gave Aragorn an affectionate smile which my beloved 
returned, though his face was edged with weariness.  Then I followed the dwarf 
catching up to him easily thanks to the superior length of my stride.

The dwarf was right in that it did not take two to gather firewood.  I could have 
accomplished the chore easily by myself, but the presence of the dwarf was 
undoubtedly a hardship for our entire company.  Aragorn probably did not send 
the dwarf off by himself because dwarves always tended to get into trouble and 
even if by some miracle he did not the group would likely not get a fire before the 
middle of the night.  Thus, Aragorn decided to send me along so that the rest of 
the group could have some time away from the dwarf and I would keep the dwarf 
safe.  I smiled to myself, my love was indeed clever and I was glad to do this little 
service for him and the rest of the fellowship.  Even as I considered these things I 
caught the sound of conversation from the campsite:

“Well that is certainly a relief, then.  Like cats and dogs them two are.” Came the 
voice of Samwise speaking in his usual excessively straightforward fashion.

“Yes, but still was it entirely wise, Aragorn to send them off together like that?  I 
am afraid that it may end in violence if we do not keep a careful watch.  It breaks 
my heart to listen to them but wouldn’t it be better to let them argue here where 
we can stop it before it comes to bloodshed.”  This was from Frodo.  The 
ringbearer spoke tremulously and as I listened I pictured the large mournful eyes 
turned on Aragorn with uncertainty.  By this time I had stopped in my tracks to 
listen.

“They are creatures of great wisdom and we must trust that they will come to an 
understanding in time.  I know-” I lost the thread of Aragorn’s voice as the dwarf 
brought me abruptly back to my immediate surroundings.

“For the gods’ sake what is it now?  Has some butterfly flapped over Mirkwood 
forcing us to stay here until you can compose some damn stupid ode to its delicate 
rainbow wing?”  The dwarf’s tone was waspish, but I barely registered his near 
blasphemy as I gestured urgently for silence.  To my surprise the dwarf did grow 
quiet though he fixed me with an impatient eye and crossed his arms over his 
chest.

“-rid ourselves of their squabbling.  This quest will prove dangerous enough 
without inviting the added peril of so much dissension.”  Aragorn must have 
finished speaking for now it was Boromir holding forth.

“The council has decided upon the composition of the fellowship.  It is not for us 
to disturb that judgment.  We must give our companions time.”  Gandalf said and 
I could almost feel the blond man roll his eyes, for though Boromir had grown to 
respect Aragorn he had not come to esteem the wizard beyond the natural esteem 
which mortals bestowed unthinkingly upon gray hair and wrinkles.

“Boromir, you said you wanted to hear about how my nephew’s cousin convinced 
the judges at the fair he had eaten 35 pies when he had really only eaten 28.  I 
could tell the story now if you like.”  Pippin spoke timidly interrupting any 
disagreement between his two favorite humans before it could begin.  As the 
hobbit continued, however, he spoke with growing confidence as he became 
caught up in the anticipation of sharing the account of the adventure.  I continued 
to listen just long enough to hear Boromir allow that he was very interested in 
hearing Pippin’s story.  Then I returned my focus to the dwarf before me who had 
begun tapping his foot in a very annoying demonstration of his impatience.

“What is wrong with you, elf?  You look paler than your usual deathly shade.”  
The dwarf asked and far beneath his testiness I detected a faint note of concern.  
He probably worried that more spies of the enemy were near.

I clenched my teeth but I kept my expression impassive.  “The others have been 
discussing us.”  I said neutrally.

“Eavesdropping!  That is so typical.  Bloody elves believe they’re entitled to 
everything including other people’s conversations.”  The dwarf said with disgust.  
Then when I continued to gaze across the landscape sorting my thoughts the 
dwarf went on.  “Well, what did they say?”

Sighing softly, I repeated what I had overheard.  The dwarf’s ruddy cheeks lost 
some of their own color with the telling.

After a moment’s silence Gimli spoke in a quiet voice, at least it was quiet for 
him: “I had not meant to worry the young ones, only to show you your flaws in 
hope that you might come to mend your ways.”

My eyebrows rose slightly.  “Indeed, though the hobbits need not have worried.  I 
am an elf and would not show violence to any save a servant of the enemy unless 
I were attacked first, no matter how badly the other deserved a lesson in 
decorum.”

“Oh, how very gracious of you, mighty elf.  I suppose you expect gratitude?”  The 
dwarf replied dryly.  It was indeed gracious and a ‘thank you’ would not have 
come amiss after all the restraint I had exhibited but I doubted the dwarf’s 
sincerity so I did not respond.  For long moments we said nothing lost in our own 
thoughts.

“I will not distress the young ones for an elf.”  The dwarf announced.  “If I have 
aught to say to you that might be misinterpreted by the young ones as belligerent- 
though it is only for the sake of your improvement- then I will say it when we are 
away from the company.”  Having delivered this statement the dwarf squared his 
shoulders and looked at me.

“No dwarf is worth the disturbance of an elf’s peace.  When your behavior 
warrants I will speak to you of your transgressions apart from the others so that 
your poor example does not dishearten the hobbits.”  I returned with decision.
“Agreed, then?”  The dwarf’s hand twitched at his side as though he were about to 
offer it to confirm our understanding but he recollected himself and merely looked 
at me expectantly.

“Agreed.  Now let us be about our task before we are thought incompetent as well 
as quarrelsome.”  I said, unhappy at how I had been linked to the dwarf in the 
minds of my companions.

The dwarf only grunted as he turned to begin the search for fallen wood and 
kindling.
*
The dwarf kept his word.  We did not exchange so much as a hard look in the 
presence of the others.  I could sense the benefits of our arrangement almost at 
once.  The miasma of gloom that hung about Frodo seemed to lift slightly and he 
was more inclined to join in the cheerful palaver of his companions.  Boromir 
seemed more at ease in my company and I thought I could see relief shine in 
Aragorn’s feature.  When evening would come, however the dwarf and I nearly 
ran off into the wilderness so that we could fully speak our minds.

Several days after our agreement I again had cause to berate the stubborn dwarf 
for his constant prating about his beloved Moria: “Gandalf has already chosen our 
route.  No one is interested in visiting a cave.  Accept the decision and spare us 
your grumbling.  You are not only tiresome but it upsets the hobbits when they 
hear that Gandalf’s choices are disputed.”  I said for I had noticed whenever the 
dwarf began another endless soliloquy on the virtues of Moria that Frodo looked 
toward the mountain with fear and trepidation.

The dwarf retorted with indignation:  “Moria is no cave.  But how can I explain to 
one so ignorant?  Gandalf harbors an unfair prejudice against the underground 
kingdom.  I might have been able to make Aragorn understand and he might have 
convinced the wizard.  Then we could be sheltered by my cousin instead of on our 
way to climb the sheer, snow saturated heights of Caradhras.  But between the 
ringbearer, Boromir and you one cannot catch a private word with the ranger.  I 
do not begrudge the young one or the man the attention for they have a rightful 
claim.  But why do you prattle endlessly: ‘Look Aragorn, a pretty bird; Ah, this 
breeze reminds me of the song of some ancient elf or other and on and on’?  And 
you accuse me of being boring?  One would think you desired to be his lover.”

Anger and sorrow washed through me.  “I am his lover and I have not had a truly 
private moment with him since this lengthy journey began.”  Emotions too long 
suppressed bubbled over forcing the words from my mouth.  I regretted it the 
moment I finished speaking.  The dwarf would use this information to taunt me.  I 
paled imagining how the dwarf would claim that anything I did which displeased 
him was an aberration caused my body’s unfulfilled desires.  

I also had to consider how my untimely disclosure would effect my beloved.  If 
Aragorn did not actually feel betrayed he would certainly believe that I was a 
babbler without discretion or wisdom.  Then, there was the rest of the fellowship.  
Gandalf knew, of course, and I doubted the sweet, loving hobbits would find 
anything in honest love to mock or deride, but what of Boromir?  He and Aragorn 
were slowly becoming friends, how would he react to this new information about 
the man destined to be his king?  It should not make any difference but Arwen, 
who knew so much more about humans than I, had often warned me that even so 
enlightened a man as Aragorn could become confused and distressed about 
matters of sex.  If this could be true of Aragorn who could predict Boromir’s 
response.

I waited, resigned, for the first assault but strangely it did not come.  “Well. . . so. 
. . ah. ..  mm” The dwarf floundered a moment.  He seemed as though he was 
about to ask a question and then he subsided into silence.  

The silence stretched and I cursed myself for having revealed so much at the 
dwarf’s taunting.  Finally, the dwarf spoke but all he said was “If you have 
finished lollygaging we should return to camp.”

Somberly I followed the dwarf’s heavy tread back to our camp.
*
I passed the next few days in an agony of suspense.  Concerned Aragorn came to 
my side to ask in a voice pitched for my ears alone what was wrong.  I answered 
only that I had spoken injudiciously to the dwarf.  I knew that response confused 
more than it enlightened but I could not bring myself to make a full confession in 
a whisper while the others walked nearby.  Soon, though, it became apparent that 
the dwarf was not going to use the information immediately.  I wondered briefly 
about this before I came to the conclusion that the dwarf wished to bide his time 
and speak at a time to maximize my discomfort.  Though I had not yet reaped the 
consequences of my incaution elves are not creatures to brood over troubles that 
have not yet come to pass.  So I let the conversation with the dwarf drift to the 
back of my mind.  

Though our agreement remained in place the dwarf and I found our opportunities 
to speak frankly decrease.  For Aragorn had warned us to stay nearer camp and 
not to stay out overlong:  “There are wolves who hunt these slopes.  They have an 
elf’s stealth, a dwarf’s strength and a hobbit’s appetite.”  He said with a smile for 
Merry and Pippin who were loitering nearby rubbing their hands together and 
stamping their large feet.

“Do hurry.”  Merry cried plaintively.  “I an afraid I shall never be warm again.”  
The hobbit blew on his hands which were pink from cold.  He created a picture of 
abject misery.  Though, unmoved by the cold myself the obvious suffering of my 
companions touched me.  Thus, it was that days went by and the dwarf and I 
barely exchanged a word of our true feelings.  I found I missed the time for my 
frustration with the dwarf grew and often I was tempted to remonstrate with him, 
despite our agreement to wait until we were away from the fellowship.

The cold and the steepness of our assent had long since silenced the hobbits’ 
cheerful conversations.  Speech would have proved difficult in any case above the 
howling wind.  Aragorn and Boromir carried the four hobbits nearly all the time, 
now that the snow was deeper than the hobbits were high.  I looked down from 
atop the snow with sympathy as my companions struggled, blue lipped and 
shivering, against the elements.  I might even have spared some compassion for 
the dwarf for his short legs and heavy armor made every footstep a battle but 
every time I looked down upon him from above he looked up at me with anger 
and resentment.  He acted as though it were my fault he was mired in the snow 
and ice.

The fellowship had to stop to rest often. In truth, I grew a little bored during our 
frequent stops for no one in the fellowship wished to talk or sing, though the snow 
glittered in the sun and the heights revealed nature’s majesty from a new 
perspective.  When we halted for the evening a great deal of time was spent 
searching for a cave to offer shelter.  If no cave could be found then time had to 
be spent making a shelter of snow.  Gandalf insisted that if we did not escape the 
wind then it could well be deadly.  I thought this must surely have been 
exaggeration.  The idea that a person could actually die from cold seemed 
ludicrous.  I could not truly believe it was that bad, but I assisted in the 
construction of the snow shelters anyway.

The only good thing to come out of our time on the mountain was the change in 
the fellowship’s sleeping arrangements.  From the beginning the hobbits had 
tended to sleep more or less in a jumble whereas the rest of us maintained a 
proper distance.  With the cold, however, my companions ceased being choosy 
about where they received warmth and all the blankets soon became communal 
property.  Frodo was so tightly nestled between Aragorn and Sam I wondered 
how the little one could breathe.  Merry slept pressed against Sam, while Pippin 
nestled between him and Boromir.  The dwarf pressed against Boromir’s back and 
Gandalf was wrapped around the dwarf.  I completed the circle with my back to 
the wizard and my arms fitted tightly around Aragorn.  I delighted in the 
closeness with my beloved, even though it was a product of necessity.  I felt him 
shivering in the night and I lamented the natural coolness of elves, for I believed 
Aragorn took more warmth from little Frodo than from me.  Despite my inability 
to properly warm him Aragorn would sometimes take my hand and place it over 
his heart between himself and the hobbit.  I was glad of the gesture for it was an 
assurance of the man’s love.

In the end the mountain defeated the best efforts of the fellowships.  The air was 
thin and our progress was slow.  The storms brought on by Saruman’s magic were 
enough to discourage even me.  It became clear to us all that we had no choice but 
to turn back.  Gandalf, however, gave the decision to the ringbearer which made 
little sense to me.  Frodo knew nothing of Moria, he only knew that he was cold 
and that Aragorn’s strong arm trembled with the fatigue of carrying him and Sam 
for hours against the wind.  Perhaps the wizard did harbor some prejudice against 
Moria if he was determined to put the responsibility of an inevitable choice on 
little Frodo.

With our descent down the mountain the fellowship came alive.  The hobbits’ 
enthusiasm reasserted itself.  Boromir who had been reduced to performing his 
tasks mechanically and obeying Aragorn’s instruction with glassy eyed 
compliance began to move about with purpose once more.  The dwarf was 
ecstatic about the change in plan.  Anticipation made him talkative and I felt my 
irritation with him building.  I longed to tell him that even the frost covered 
mountain peaks far out-stripped even the most attractive hole in the ground but I 
found no opportunity for we were to have no more fires since the enemy knew of 
our failed attempt on Caradhras and was thus alert to our approximate 
whereabouts.  Only Gandalf remained quiet and sullen, dreading the mines.
*
The earth was hard and cold as we made camp but for the first time in weeks no 
snow covered the ground.  The hobbits were giddy with joy.  I welcomed their 
gladness and would have readily joined in it had it not been for the dwarf.  The 
dwarf was like a stone in my boot: in the beginning one hardly noticed the minor 
irritation.  It was nothing to be concerned about but after a long day’s march 
nothing seems to exist save the agony in one’s foot.  So it was that all my 
concentration was bent upon the dwarf as he shoveled food into his mouth.  
He was a messy eater and I heard the sounds of chewing and swallowing at a 
volume that overwhelmed my sensitive ears.  There were bits of bread stuck in the 
dwarf’s long beard and he would open his mouth to speak before he had finished 
chewing.  It had been so long since I had had a true argument with the dwarf.  So 
many minor annoyances and vexations had accumulated.  My knuckles were 
white as I struggled to retain control of myself.  Dwarves, dwarves, dwarves!  
Neither hobbits, nor men, nor other elves could inflame me so.  Hatred of the 
grimy, acquisitive creatures was as much a part of an elf as the love of nature and 
yet here I was watching tamely as this stumpy being wallowed in his feed.

“If you continue to go through our remaining rations as though you were a hog at 
his swill trough then we will starve to death long before we reach your precious 
hole in the ground.”  I had spoken much more loudly than I intended and all eyes 
were now fixed upon me.  With a terrible stab of guilt I saw from the corner of 
my eye that Sam had been reaching for an apple as I had begun to speak and the 
small hobbit had now pulled his hand back as though it had been slapped.

“Let those who flit about atop the snow as if they were naught but air take in 
naught but air.  Those of us who consist of substance, however, must consume 
substance.”  The dwarf answered in a furious snarl.  

I did not retort for shame filled me.  I had broken our agreement.  Sam looked as 
though he wanted to cry.  It all seemed so indefensibly petty now that I had said 
it.  Frodo had all but crawled into Gandalf’s lap as he drew himself into a tight 
little ball trying to make himself appear inconspicuous.  My cheeks burned scarlet 
and it took all my will power not to hide my head.  Boromir stared at me angrily 
as he deliberately took the apple Sam had been reaching for and placed it gently 
in front of the hobbit.

The dwarf recovered himself first and made an attempt to salvage the situation: 
“Not that elves lack substance.  I wasn’t saying that.  It’s a clever trick actually 
walking on snow, very um acrobatic. . .”  The silence fell heavy in the wake of the 
dwarf’s ham-fisted but heartfelt attempt.

“Maybe you two could hold a contest.  You could have an hour and the one who 
can find the most food wins.”  Pippin’s high voice broke the silence.  The young 
hobbit’s face was twisted into lines of deep concentration as he peered at me and 
the dwarf from his refuge near Boromir.

“Pippin!”  Merry chided in a loud whisper as he elbowed his cousin hard in the 
ribs.

“What?”  Pippin asked with a slightly wounded expression.  “They are going to 
fight anyway and I’m hungry.”

My face burned with shame as Merry began to explain to his cousin, sotto voce, 
why a food-catching contest wasn’t going to help the elf and the dwarf get along.  
We had moved from the tragic to the farcical and I liked neither role.

“Wait, there might be some merit in Master Pippin’s suggestion.”  Aragorn’s 
quiet voice interrupted Merry’s lecture. 

“See?”  Pippin crowed earning himself another sharp jab in the ribs.

“Our rations are in need of replenishing.  Perhaps Gimli and Legolas would 
consent to go provisioning tomorrow?”  Aragorn asked, politely inquisitive.  
There was not the faintest trace of disgust or even disappointment in Aragorn’s 
voice and this absence depressed me unutterably.  I had acted foolishly and if 
Aragorn was in truth not disappointed then that could only mean he had expected 
nothing better from me.  It was a fierce blow not only to my pride but also to my 
heart that the one who was as the center of the world to me could think so little of 
his satellite.

“I should be happy to assist the fellowship and if I might help the elf by showing 
him some techniques of hunting then all the better.”  Gimli sounded even more 
gruff than usual and it was obvious that he was doing his best to put a good face 
on a bad situation.  I could only nod my agreement.  Speech would not come to 
me.

Pippin clapped his hands happily.  “Perhaps then we could hold another contest 
where Gimli can tell a story and Legolas can sing a ballad and then the rest of us 
can say which we like best.”  

“Good idea, Pip.  How about next we see who can come up with the most foods 
that begin with the letter ‘q’.  You can tell a lot about a person by the number of 
‘q’ foods he can name”  Merry added, his earlier objections forgotten.

Pippin nodded sagely at this wisdom and Frodo uncurled himself a little to better 
listen to the tide of suggestions.  Even Sam who still had not quite managed to 
take the apple Boromir had placed before him seemed to perk up.  Before lying 
down to sleep the hobbits had decided among them the traits to use to best judge 
the worth and value of the races of middle earth.  These traits included: hobbit 
carrying capability, the number of times one could skip a stone upon a lake and 
the ease with which a person could pick something up using only his feet.
*
The camp was quiet as the fellowship drifted toward sleep.  Strangely, though the 
temperature no longer forced the others together, our sleeping arrangements had 
changed little since the mountain.  Frodo still snuggled close between Aragorn 
and Sam.  Pippin continued to sleep cocooned between Boromir and Merry.  Even 
Gandalf and Gimli who had increased their distance from one another with the 
rising temperature still slept closer to each other and their companions than they 
had at the beginning of our journey.  I resolved to continue to sleep as close to 
Aragorn as possible.  We slept together innocently and if there was nought amiss 
with the hobbits seeking and receiving comfort from their human guardians then 
why should Aragorn and I be judged differently?

Tonight, however, Aragorn had taken first watch and the place between Frodo and 
myself was empty.  I waited patiently as the breathing of the fellowship settled 
into the slow steady rhythm of sleep.  Usually the dwarf along with Sam, Merry 
and Pippin was the first to sleep but the events of the evening must have left the 
dwarf restless for he did not fall into the rumbling cadence of true sleep for more 
than three-quarters of an hour.  Frodo was ever a fitful sleeper and his uneasiness 
always intensified in Aragorn’s absence but even so the relief of the warmer 
weather must have had a good effect for Frodo was sleeping better now than he 
had in a long while.  Of the others only Gandalf was a mystery.  The wizard’s 
control was such that he sounded in sleep much as he did awake and I was never 
certain weather he was sleeping, alert, sunk deep in a trance or away from his 
body altogether spying the lines of magic that spun towards us. This made little 
difference in the end because I had neither the cause not the will to hide anything 
from Gandalf.  Thus, when I was sure all save Gandalf slept soundly I rose from 
my place to seek Aragorn.

I found him nearby on a rise that gave a good view of our camp and the 
surrounding terrain.  He was seated upon a large stone with his back to a tree and 
his pipe in his hand.  He smiled a greeting and made as if to move to share the 
stone with me but I stopped him with a wave of my hand and settled myself 
comfortably upon the earth by his feet.  I rested my head against his knee and in 
less than a moment Aragorn had begun to stroke my hair.  I smiled to myself at 
that for in some ways Aragorn was the most predictable of men.  We remained 
together thus for a while.  I surveyed the night letting the aroma of night flowers 
surround me as I was soothed by Aragorn’s presence as well as his gentle touch.  
It was not often we shared even the time on watch together.  I did not permit 
Aragorn to keep watch with me for though his will pushed him beyond the limits 
of ordinary human endurance, he was still a man and he needed much more sleep 
than he found.  Aragorn attempted to use the same logic against me.  Though I 
was an elf and could easily suffer less sleep to be with him I indulged his rather 
charming desire to protect me and, for the most part, I slept during his time on 
guard.  This night, however, I desired Aragorn’s counsel as well as his company.

“I acted badly today.  I should not have accosted the dwarf no matter how he 
angered me.”  I spoke softly without raising my head from Aragorn’s knee.  These 
were painful admissions for me to make and there was still some part of me that 
insisted that whatever I did the dwarf was the cause and I was blameless.  I fought 
this intuition, though, for no quarrel lasted long when the fault was all on one 
side.

“You maintained your self-control longer than any other elf in your position could 
have done.  I know what a struggle it has been for you, my love.  You have been 
valiant in your efforts on behalf of the quest.  Besides the fellowship need not 
suffer if you and the dwarf can properly channel your animosity”  Aragorn 
comforted, fingers still carding through my long hair.  

I was grateful for his words for much of my unhappiness came from my fear that 
Aragorn would think of me as a foolish child who could not hold his temper.  I 
wanted his respect more than I was able to explain.  Yet I still remained 
discontented.   “Do not make excuses for me, Aragorn.  I am not yet ready to 
forgive myself”  I said sadly.

Aragorn touched my cheek softly.  He understood better than most the bitterness 
of self-reproach.  “It wasn’t simply that you were angry with Gimli, was it?”  
Aragorn asked probing gently for some explanation for my unusually dismal 
mood.

“This journey has been filled with hardships.”  I said, thinking how long it had 
been since I had had the time to truly absorb the beauty of my surroundings and 
how long it had been since I had had Aragorn’s complete and total attention to 
myself.  “And that dwarf. . .   Now even the smallest thing usurps my entire 
consciousness crowding out all other thought.  It was easier in the beginning 
before Caradhras.”  I finished.  My teeth were clenched and without thinking I 
had pressed my forehead into Aragorn’s knee with bruising force.

“Is it because you miss sparring with Gimli every evening?”  Aragorn asked, 
massaging my shoulders to calm me.

“How did you know about that?”  I asked surprised.

“It was not difficult to infer.  You both returned with such smug expressions that 
it was obvious that you each believed you had just won a great argument.”  I did 
not need to look up to know Aragorn was grinning.  The human was certainly 
fortunate I was so fond of him for I chose to ignore his last statement.  “Why does 
it bother you that you have come to enjoy wrangling with Gimli?  It is clear to 
everyone that there is no longer the great malice between you two that there was 
in the beginning.  I know of brothers who cannot express affection for one another 
without insults.  Surely, it is a matter for rejoicing that you and Gimli have a 
chance at friendship.”

“It is shameful.”  I said very quietly.

Aragorn did not reply to this and I was grateful to be spared the usual platitudes.  
Aragorn did, however, continue to stroke my hair and shoulders, offering silent 
reassurance and consolation.  After a time I began to think that there was no 
reason to be distressed.  So I enjoyed putting the dwarf in his place that didn’t 
mean we were friends- far from it.  It was completely proper that an elf should 
take pleasure in revealing the many flaws of the dwarves.

“Still, it would bring honor to the elves to provide a conclusive demonstration of 
the superiority of elfish hunting.”  I said thinking about how Gimli would mutter 
and make up some silly but amusing excuse to explain why he had been so 
thoroughly trounced.

Aragorn earned his reputation for wisdom that night by not laughing.  It was a 
close thing, though, for I felt his muscles tense and a shiver of barely suppressed 
mirth pass through him.  “It may not prove so easy a victory as you imagine.”  
Aragorn said, once he had regained control of himself.

I sniffed derisively.  The dwarf was so loud and so slow that a tortoise would not 
only have time to escape but to go around and warn a hundred of its closest 
neighbors before the dwarf caught up.  “Get you to your bed, man.  You are 
having delusions.”  I said rising to my feet then bending down to kiss his brow.

“It is not yet your watch.”  Aragorn replied, taking my hands.

“Yes, it is.  Do not argue, my hope.”  I commanded, pulling him to his feet.  We 
embraced gently, and kissed softly afraid to do more lest we lose control of 
ourselves.  To my surprise, Aragorn did not argue but allowed me to take the rest 
of his watch.  He must have been tired indeed to give in so easily.  I watched my 
love return to camp a faint trace of worry crossing my features.
*
Aragorn’s prediction proved true, though it was hardly fair since the dwarf set 
traps rather than stalking and killing game as I had done.  The dwarf had ‘caught’ 
several rabbits whereas I brought down a large waterfowl.  The hobbits called the 
contest a draw but neither I nor the dwarf would accept that result.  So the hobbits 
revised their judgment and declared themselves the winners as they licked their 
fingers and wrapped the remainder of the meat for tomorrow’s dinner.

The dwarf and I competed often as we approached Moria but the hobbits, 
probably fearing to hurt the dwarf’s feeling never declared a clear victor.  
Though, the dwarf and I continued to argue frequently it no longer seemed to 
bother the rest of the fellowship. Perhaps the others had finally come to 
understand that an elf with so much grace and refinement could not silently accept 
the presence of a dwarf with his rude manners and unattractive features.  
Whatever the explanation I was glad Gandalf and Boromir no longer stared 
balefully when the dwarf and I exchanged words.  The hobbits no longer 
retreated, in fact, I would sometimes hear them giggling to themselves when the 
dwarf and I argued.  The little ones had no doubt finally come to see the intrinsic 
silliness of the dwarf’s assertions.

Gandalf had announced that we would reach the gates of Moria by nightfall.  The 
dwarf was almost babbling with excitement.  He boasted of the many luxuries that 
would be available in his cousin’s cave and I wondered idly if the amenities might 
include a room Aragorn and I might have to ourselves.  Though I was usually 
loath to enter any dwarfish hole in the ground especially one as large as Moria 
with such a large population I let the dwarf’s words lull me.  I would not give my 
companions any reason to doubt my courage.  What was there in middle earth or 
under it to frighten an elf?

As I reassured myself, I realized that however it was for elves the wizard was 
most certainly frightened.  The dwarf’s eager steps brought him to the head of our 
group but Gandalf had fallen to the rear as though he wished to delay.  When 
Aragorn slowed his pace to exchange a few words with the wizard he came away 
looking worried.  Gandalf’s odd behavior continued when we came to the mine’s 
entrance.  He spent hours on fruitless efforts to open the gate.  I believe the others 
dismissed it as an amusing or an annoying lapse in the wizard’s concentration but 
I wondered.  Everything about Gandalf’s stance and movement even his voice 
betrayed a bone deep reluctance.

If the wizard had hopes that Frodo might change his mind and turn from Moria 
then they were dashed not long after we entered.  A monster from the lake 
launched an attack upon us or perhaps only on the ringbearer for we could not be 
certain whether or not its malice had been guided by an even greater evil.  The 
efforts of the fellowship robbed the creature of its chosen prey and it rose up in 
anger bringing down the walls and blocking our retreat.  Now we had no choice 
but to go through the immeasurable caverns, peopled as we now realized they 
were with the skeletons and corpses of earlier occupants.  The dwarf had fallen 
into a morbid silence and the rest of us felt a nameless dread.  Doom seemed to 
lurk in the shadows only held at bay by the flickering torches and the pale glow of 
the wizard’s staff.
*
The dark surrounded me.  It was like a weight crushing me. The very air seemed 
thick and oppressive.  Sounds behaved strangely in the vast underground caverns.  
The voices of my companions seemed muffled but the skittering of rats or the fall 
of gravel rang preternaturally loud.  We traveled for days, though day and night 
had no true meaning here.  I was hopelessly lost within the pit of Moria.  There 
were no stars to guide my path.  There were no trees to whisper of their unique 
location and the air never stirred to indicate direction.  I stayed close by Gandalf 
for I feared that if I became separated from the group for even a moment I would 
be condemned to spend my sanity hopelessly wandering the endless passages and 
tunnels of this deathly place.

Gimli had been very quiet since we arrived and started to find the bodies.  I was 
unnerved for I had grown accustomed to listening to him, though I could not fault 
his silence.  Unbidden an image of Lothlorien strangely hushed and filled with 
elfin corpses sprung before my mind’s eye and I nearly cried out.  In all truth, I 
worried for the dwarf.  If the mere thought of such a catastrophe could shake an 
elf then what must the reality be doing to a dwarf.  I wanted to offer the dwarf a 
song to ease his heart but I did not like the way the stone hewn corridors deadened 
any attempt at anything musical.  Also the dwarf had often complained about my 
singing and though I knew that this was simply grumbling on his part- elfish 
singing was a treat for the gods- I did not know how to make it clear I intended no 
insult.

As we continued our long trek the dwarf suddenly splintered off on his own.  
Gandalf called out to stop him but was ignored.  My breath caught for my fears of 
becoming lost or separated were then heavy upon me.  The dwarf’s footsteps were 
still audible, and the fellowship hurried after our straying companion.  When we 
caught up to him he was sobbing inarticulately at the base of a large stone tomb.  
Gandalf read the inscription describing this as the final resting-place of the 
dwarf’s cousin.  Gimli gasped in mouthfuls of air nearly choking on his grief.  
Boromir reached his side first and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  The 
hobbits gathered around in a fretful semicircle wringing their hands and emitting 
soft, soothing sounds.  Gandalf spared the dwarf a sympathetic look but his 
interest had been caught by the room which held an abnormally large number of 
corpses.  I held back not wishing to intrude upon the dwarf’s grief.

A hand closed suddenly around my arm and I nearly had my knives out before I 
realized that the touch was familiar and could only have come from Aragorn.  
Again I cursed this place.  Nowhere else could I have been startled so.  Relaxing I 
leaned into Aragorn’s touch grateful for his closeness.

“Gimli is suffering.”  Aragorn said quietly.

So much was obvious.  I watched Gandalf as he explored the room as I waited for 
Aragorn to make his point.

“Do you not wish to ease his suffering?”  The question came as the wizard found 
a large book in the hands of one of the corpses and began to study it.

“Aye, I would.  But I can neither restore his kin to life nor return their home to 
glory, my hope.”  I said still watching Gandalf.  I did not wish to devote my full 
attention to talk of the dwarf’s unhappiness.  If I did then I feared I would give in 
to the despair that seemed to seep from the walls themselves.

“That is true, but you could tell Gimli that you are concerned for him and that he 
is not alone.  I believe that you could do much good.”  Aragorn suggested softly.  
Aragorn had tracked my gaze to the wizard, curious to know what else claimed 
my attention.  

“That is not our way.”  I replied.  Whatever Gandalf read within the pages of the 
book he had found had caused all color to drain from his face.

“Not the way of the elves?”  Aragorn asked stepping casually in front of me and 
cutting off my view of Gandalf’s activities.  

Sighing, I forced myself to focus on the conversation.  “No, I meant it is not the 
way for the dwarf and myself.  He does not want my consolation.  He would not 
know how to accept it any more than I would know how to offer it.  It will be 
better for him if I let him be.”

“I think he is more likely to interpret your distance as contempt.  Come, shall we 
go to him?”  Aragorn asked, although he had already taken my hand in his and 
started across the large room before I had had a chance to answer.  Aragorn’s grip 
was light.  It would have taken almost no effort to slip my hand from his and stop.  
Yet I did not pull away.  I walked hand in hand with Aragorn to the dwarf’s side. 

The dwarf’s eyes were red and swollen.  Tears had cut furrows through the dirt on 
the dwarf’s face.  Aragorn did not attempt words.  Instead he laid his hand on the 
dwarf’s shoulder and his eyes shone with sympathetic sadness.  In mute 
acknowledgment the dwarf covered Aragorn’s hand with his own. 

I took a deep breath as Aragorn squeezed the dwarf’s shoulder once more before 
retreating leaving me alone with the sorrowing dwarf.  “I mourn for your loss.”  I 
told the dwarf bracing myself for an explosion of rage in case he believed I was 
mocking him.

“Thank you, Legolas.  You comfort me.”  The dwarf replied, his voice thick but 
steady.  Then he continued in a slightly louder tone.  “I must say farewell to 
Balin.  I will be but a moment.”  With that he turned and I left him to his grief.  I 
was surprised that Gimli had seemed so appreciative of my few words but I was 
more astonished to realize how glad I was to have had cheered the dwarf if only a 
little.

I turned to search for Aragorn.  I wanted to tell my love how well it had gone but 
Aragorn was deep in conversation with Gandalf.  No it was not a conversation it 
was an argument.  I hurried over, alarmed, just in time to see the wizard take up 
his staff and floppy hat.

“I have an errand that cannot be delayed.  I hope to see you all again soon but if 
not you have all been fine companions.”  The wizard announced then headed for 
the door refusing to meet any of the shocked stares sent his way.

Gandalf might have made good his escape except that Pippin had moved while 
the rest of stood in shock and caught hold of the wizard’s robe.  “You can’t mean 
to leave us, Gandalf, not now.  What will we do without you?”  The little one 
demanded looking hurt and fearful.
“I must go, Pip.  I’m sure you will all get along fine.  There is great courage in 
you and your companions.”  Gandalf replied as he hurriedly tried to free himself 
from the hobbit’s grip.  It was too late, though, for now everyone had recovered 
his wits and Gandalf was not going to be able to go without further discussion.  
Frodo had set himself in front of the door as though he meant to keep the wizard 
with the rest of us by physical force if necessary.  Boromir was indignantly 
demanding to know what the old man thought he was playing at while the other 
hobbits were asking questions in pleading tones.

“Enough!  Our flight from this place will be opposed by a force none of you can 
hope to overcome.  I alone have a chance at victory but whatever the outcome I 
want Frodo well away from here.”  Gandalf spoke sternly as he finally managed 
to disentangle himself from Pippin’s clasping fingers.

“Couldn’t we just sneak past or something?  Why must there be a fight?”  Frodo 
asked plaintively.  

Sighing Gandalf gave the ringbearer a look of sympathy.  “No, I suspect our 
presence has been known for a long time.  I must face this thing.  While I engage 
its attention I want the rest of you on your way out of here.  We may well meet 
again, as early as Lothlorien, perhaps.”  The wizard answered with a smile that 
was meant to be reassuring but looked forced.

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Gandalf, but if there is to be danger shouldn’t we all 
face it together?  That’s what being a fellowship means, don’t it?”  Sam asked.  I 
was surprised for though I knew Sam had an abundance of personal courage I did 
not realize that he ever looked past his great loyalty to Frodo,

“Aye, that it does.”  Gimli affirmed in a voice that came close to his usual 
booming speech.  Enthusiastic agreement followed Gimli’s words and I added my 
voice to the chorus.

Gandalf’s expression, however, made it clear that he did not intend to budge an 
inch.  Seeing this Frodo appealed to Aragorn: “Can you not speak to him, Strider?  
Perhaps he will see reason.”

All eyes focused on the ranger when he did not answer immediately.  I knew 
Aragorn best of all of us present and I could see that my beloved was deeply 
ambivalent.  I moved closer to him trying to communicate to him with my eyes 
that he always had my support.  Finally, Aragorn spoke: “Gandalf has devoted 
himself to fighting the enemy.  He is in the best position to know what must be 
done.  We have consented to his leadership and I believe we should defer to his 
judgment in this.”  Every word seemed to cost Aragorn as he delivered his 
opinion.  It went against his instincts to leave a companion to face danger alone 
but, ultimately, the ring had to be guarded and the ringbearer protected.  Aragorn 
could have made no other choice.

With his words the hobbits seemed to deflate.  Very rarely could one win an 
argument against the wizard but when Gandalf had Aragorn’s support it became 
an impossible feat.  Frodo seemed to lose strength in his legs and he sat down 
heavily at his place before the door.  Pippin wrapped Gandalf in a hug which had 
become a gesture of farewell.  Boromir looked as though he had just remembered 
that the hobbits were not warriors and that they needed vigilant protection.  Gimli 
still wanted blood and I could not blame him but he seemed prepared to yield to 
Gandalf’s authority.

Gandalf returned Pippin’s embrace quickly and then headed for the door pausing 
only to touch Merry and Sam on the shoulder.  When the wizard came to Frodo 
who still sat dejectedly he leaned down to whisper in his ear: “This is for the best, 
my dear Frodo.  Trust me in this.”  The words were too soft for any to hear save 
the ringbearer and myself and as soon as Gandalf finished speaking he slipped 
past Frodo and out the door into the dark.

“We will give him a few minutes then make for the exit as quickly as possible.”  
Aragorn announced giving everyone a plan of action to focus on so that the 
hobbits would not lapse into brooding.  It was then that I realized Gandalf must 
have taken the book that had claimed his attention so thoroughly earlier for it had 
disappeared.  Gandalf, it seemed, could always guard his secrets.  

I gazed sorrowfully at my beloved as he helped the hobbits put themselves and 
their gear in order.  Without Gandalf the burdens upon Aragorn would only 
increase.  With a sigh I sent forth a thought for the wizard’s protection and safety.  
Perhaps he would meet us in Lothlorien and we could all renew our strength in 
the verdant serenity of the lady’s wood.  It had been so long since I had spent time 
such as lovers do with Aragorn.

After approximately ten minutes we emerged from the central hall where Balin 
lay in state.  We moved swiftly and I could tell the others were making an effort 
to keep as quiet as possible.  An elf’s ears would not have been deceived but we 
were not hoping to escape the notice of elves.  All of a sudden I heard a faint 
scratching like claws scraping against stone.  I dismissed the sound as rats but 
even so I increased my pace.  Then the sound seemed to be coming from 
everywhere at once and again I cursed the odd echo of this place, but even as I 
attempted to rationalize my growing fear I started to see movement out of the 
corner of my eye.

In a moment I knew for certain that the sound had nothing to do with rats.  
Goblins poured from the darkness reinforced by the slower moving but larger 
orcs.  They came at us from all directions.  Every few yards I paused to loose an 
arrow at the goblins who threatened to cut us off before we reached the final 
bridge in this maze.  Aragorn also fired arrows every few paces but it was already 
too late.  Our enemies screamed with triumph as they streamed between us and 
our escape route.  As it became clear that we were surrounded the fellowship 
naturally formed into a tight circle.  

While the goblins and orcs were still at a distance I emptied my quiver into their 
midst before drawing my knives.  The dwarf was screaming his own savage battle 
cries as he wielded his axe and gave himself over to a vengeful blood lust.  
Boromir had drawn his sword and positioned his shield so that it would most 
benefit the hobbits who had also drawn their weapons.  Sting shone bright blue 
and Anduril seemed to burn as brightly as an all-consuming flame as it reflected 
the light of the torches held by Merry and Sam.  There was a subtle jockeying as 
the company maneuvered in such a way as to push Frodo toward the safety of the 
center of the circle.  We were not long in position before the first rank of goblins 
engaged us with a blood-chilling scream.
I skewered a goblin on each blade as I lunged forward.  Stepping back I pulled my 
blades free before slashing at my next opponents.  With his first stroke Boromir 
completely decapitated the goblin in front of him.  His sword still retained 
momentum after the enemy’s head had been severed.  Gimli swung his axe with 
animal fierceness opening the stomachs of his victims.  I saw more than one 
goblin lose his footing as he slipped on the viscera of one of his slaughtered 
kindred.  Aragorn drove his sword into his opponents.  Sometimes he thrust with 
such force he stabbed the goblin behind the one he had aimed at.  Even the 
hobbits went for the unprotected thighs and bellies of the shrieking creatures with 
uncharacteristic viciousness.  Merry and Sam would sometimes thrust the torches 
forward catching the tatters of clothing worn by the goblins  on fire.  As the cloth 
burned the goblins would go mad with pain and panic causing confusion in their 
own ranks.

The fact that the fellowship needed to fight in a tight formation made this one of 
the goriest battles of my life.  Bodies piled around us and we could not move from 
our places to escape the stench.  We were now slaying orcs as well as goblins for 
the larger creatures had finally made their way to us.  I had a terrifying thought 
that we would not be killed in battle but that we would be buried beneath a pile of 
orc and goblin corpses, suffocated under the weight of rotting flesh.  Would I be 
able to find my beloved’s hand and murmur a final farewell as I choked on the 
blood of my enemies?  I drove the thought from my mind swallowing my fear  I 
had been too long in this place.  I was losing myself to the macabre horror of this 
pit.  I had to fight it.

I concentrated upon executing each thrust and slash with cool precision and 
efficiency.  I tried to lose myself in the graceful arcs and deft cuts as my knives 
flashed in a deadly dance.  I wanted to blot out the wet and stinking reality.  
Suddenly a howl rent the air.  I never hope to meet the creature capable of 
emitting such a sound.  The cry seemed to freeze the fellowship and a ripple of 
dread ran through the orcs and goblins.  Then as abruptly as it had begun the 
demonic scream cut off.  For a moment longer everyone- orcs, men, goblins, 
hobbits, dwarf and elf- was still, waiting, dreading.  My thoughts ran to Gandalf 
and I wished the wizard strength for I knew now he had spoken truth when he 
declared that all the fellowship would be helpless against such a foe as he now 
battled.  When no further shriek came our battle resumed and the enemies kept 
coming.

I heard a sharp yelp that I identified as coming from Merry.  I forced myself to 
ignore it and continued to fight.  There was nothing I could do for the little hobbit.  
As many of the creatures as we slew we could not stem the tide.  Orcs and goblins 
seemed to bubble up from the stone itself.  The situation was hopeless.  No matter 
how many we killed more came.  We could not sustain our heroic defense 
indefinitely.   Eventually, even I would tire.  I began to wonder how all this might 
end.  Battle experience told me for all that we were trying to lend them protection 
Sam, Merry and Pippin would be the first to succumb.  The only certainty was 
that Frodo would be among the last to die, the fellowship would protect him to the 
very end.  In a moment of profound selfishness I hoped that I would die before 
Aragorn.  I wanted to be spared the agony of his death by any means even if that 
meant my own death.

At first, I believed some lucky stroke had found its way behind my guard and that 
I had been dealt a blow to the head for my ears began to ring and I suddenly found 
it difficult to concentrate.  That made no sense, though.  I did not feel injured and 
I could not identify a trauma point.  Controlling my panic I continued to wield my 
knives but the enemy seemed to be retreating.  Not quite trusting my senses I 
slashed at the empty air before me.  My cuts met no resistance and my 
companions were standing warily, weapons still but ready.  

“What is this?”  I asked a little desperately.  My ears still rang and the world had 
taken on an odd surreal quality.

“It is as though they have been called away.”  Aragorn said quietly and I knew he 
had spoken more to give me the comfort of a response rather than because he had 
any particular insight into the strange happenings.  I tried to anchor myself to the 
sound of his voice and some of my fear eased.  I wanted to know if anyone else’s 
senses seemed to be confused but I did not want to alarm anyone by asking.  I 
could find out later if there was a later.

By this time, all of the goblins and the orcs had gone.  Suddenly my head cleared.  
The change was so abrupt that I began to wonder if anything had truly been amiss.  
Quickly I left off questioning my sanity and surveyed my surroundings.  The 
fellowship was a lone island in a sea of corpses, but our way to the bridge was 
finally clear.  Slowly we crept closer to the bridge.  The unexpected departure of 
our enemies frightened us more than their presence had done and everyone 
searched the darkness with eyes bright with fear.

We had made it only a few steps when Gimli cried out.  We all turned to see what 
the dwarf had seen.  For a moment I could see only darkness.  In this unnatural 
gloom my eyes did not give me an advantage over the dwarf.  Then I did see it, a 
flickering light.  Whatever it was it would reach the bridge before we did.  One of 
the hobbits moaned softly.  I felt my stomach tighten with dread but I readied my 
knives and took my place as the fellowship formed a line to meet this new threat.

I could still not quite make out our foe but when the dwarf cried out again, he let 
forth a cry of joy.  Gimli shouted excitedly in his own language and though I did 
not understand the dwarfish tongue I heard him pronounce his own name and I 
assumed he was introducing himself.  Gimli was answered by shouts from the 
approaching light.  Soon I saw that the light came from torches and the torches 
were being held by dwarves.  I suppose it was the first time in the long history of 
middle earth that an elf was pleased at the arrival of a group of dwarves.

There followed an excited rapid-fire conversation between Gimli and the leader of 
the dwarves.  Before things went much further, however, Aragorn cleared his 
throat as a polite reminder that the fellowship could not understand what was 
going on, though I think Aragorn himself may have known a few phrases.  Gimli 
seemed to break off mid-sentence and then he continued in the common tongue 
giving us a slightly apologetic look:  “Believe me, I am overjoyed to find you here 
and you may well have saved our lives, but how did so much sorrow come to our 
people in this, our stronghold, and how did you survive it?”  Gimli’s words 
tumbled over one another in his gladness to find friends unlooked for.  I noticed, 
however, that a sudden chill seemed to come over the features of the thirty or so 
dwarves that had come to our rescue.

“It is a sad tale, friend Gimli, but what of you?  We had thought ourselves 
abandoned.  And why have you come here with such a companion?”  The dwarf 
leader asked staring pointedly at me and I suddenly understood why our reception 
had suddenly become chilly.  I felt a certain discomfort as I realized that all the 
dwarves had axes and that a dwarf was not so easily overcome as an orc.  Granted 
no move of overt hostility had been made but no one in the fellowship- not even 
Gimli- had put aside his weapon.

Gimli’s face reddened.  For a moment I felt certain he would deny me and 
perhaps the rest of the fellowship with me but he said: “That too is a long story, 
friend Dafyd, but I have seen my cousin’s tomb.  I must know what has been 
happening here.”

“Very well.”  The leader, Dafyd, agreed with a final glare in my direction.  “It 
began many months ago.  I was working on a small deposit of silver far to the 
south, but a work group in the eastern most section of the mine reported finding a 
vein of gold.  Naturally, everyone was excited, but as soon as we pierced the first 
strata we found that there was only a thin layer of gold.”  Gimli seemed to be 
absolutely enthralled by the story and he had grunted with disappointment at the 
last sentence.  I found myself poised between hyper-vigilance and outright 
boredom.

“But rather than the usual dross of igneous rock we found mithril, 70 to 80 per 
cent pure.  The cache was narrow but deep.  We could hardly believe our fortune.  
All other projects were cancelled.  We worked night and day in the eastern 
section.  Most of us had never seen anything so beautiful.  Slowly the stone gave 
up its treasure, but we should have known that such a rich prize would not be won 
so easily.  A rumbling in the earth began to be noticed.  We ignored it but every 
shift it seemed to grow louder.  Eventually a creature was awakened by the sound 
of our hammers and chisels.”  Dafyd’s eyes looked haunted as he continued.

“Balin had been supervising the work when the creature erupted from the earth, 
spitting fire and consuming all in its path.  Being among the first to die Balin was 
interred with all honors.  There were many who followed him that were not so 
lucky.  We launched assault after assault but to no avail.  We had no chance 
against this thing of flame and shadow.  As our strength failed the orcs and 
goblins grew increasingly bold.  The creature would not let us escape and the 
goblins hunted us.  It seemed hopeless.  We had been decimated.  We despaired of 
our families and our children.  Then a creature came to us, like an orc, only 
bigger, smarter.  It offered peace terms.  The creature wakened from the earth 
would cease to bother us and we would be given command of the orcs and goblins 
and in exchange we would ally ourselves with the White Hand and his master in 
Mordor.”

“No!”  Gimli cried

“They were not your loved ones in peril.  It was not your children who were 
threatened, Gimli.  You cannot know how it was for us.  We accepted and 
Saruman kept his word.”  Dafyd spoke tiredly as though he, himself, was 
disappointed.

“Treating with the Enemy!  How could you?!”  Gimli demanded, hoarsely.

“Treated with the Enemy?  I think you forget who the true enemy is, son of 
Gloin.”  Now Dafyd sounded harsh, angry.  “Before Sauron was ever considered a 
menace there were elves.  Elves who taunted us, called us greedy even as they 
stole the treasures we broke our backs to win from the unforgiving earth.  It was 
elves who set fires in our mines because they believed our digging would 
undermine their precious trees.  It was the elves who spoke such sweet promises 
of peace and cooperation while they needed us but spoke to us with contempt 
when we had served our purpose.  If we have had dealings with Saruman and 
Sauron then we had dire need.  Tell me, friend, why do you keep company with 
the Enemy?  What does this elf have to do with you?”

Dafyd had sounded accusing and the dwarves around him looked at me with 
hatred.  It suddenly occurred to me that the goblins and orcs had retreated at the 
dwarves’ command rather than from fear of them.  I wondered how the dwarves 
had communicated their commands and suspected that it had something to do 
with the strange feelings I had had.  But why had they bothered to call off the 
attackers?  They had not known that there was a fellow dwarf among us until they 
approached so it could not have been compassion that motivated them.  Then it 
struck me.  The dwarves wanted to see if there was anything to be gained from the 
fresh kill before the orcs and goblins stripped the bodies.  I allowed my lip to curl 
in disgust.  Whatever happened I would show these acquisitive little scavengers 
the courage of an elf.

Gimli seemed shocked beyond words.  He just could not believe that his own kind 
had made peace with the dark lord and his agents.  “How could you have done 
this?” was all Gimli managed to mutter after several failed attempts to 
communicate.

“We had no choice, Gimli.  We value our survival and the survival of those 
placed in our care. We are true to our own, even- Brother Gimli- when our own 
stray so far from the bounds of decency and common morality as to permit an elf 
to venture into our sacred stronghold.”  Dafyd returned with severity.

“You dare?!  You dare to speak to me of morality, of decency when your permit 
Sauron’s vermin to infest these halls?  What is an elf compared to that?”  Gimli 
was almost choking and he was purple with indignation and anguished grief at 
this latest calamity to befall Moria.

Boromir had been watching the exchange carefully and he stood now sword 
clutched tightly anticipating violence with each word and ready to spring to the 
defense of Gimli and the fellowship.  The hobbits watched both Gimli and Dafyd 
with anxious, pleading expressions.  It was clear they expected a fight but 
desperately desired to avoid a conflict.  The dwarves gathered behind Dafyd 
showed none of the hobbits’ reluctance.  Some fingered their axes.  They jostled 
one another to get nearer what they assumed would soon be the front line of 
battle.  Many fixed fierce stares upon me.  I disdained to stare back, their 
animosity was beneath my notice.  Still, if we came to blows then all thirty-some 
dwarves would be upon me and those were poor odds even for an elf.

Dafyd had drawn breath to respond to Gimli and he looked grim and angry.  
Before he could utter a sound, however, Aragorn took a careful step forward and I 
doubted that it was an accident that he ended up interposed between me and the 
dwarves.  His hands were raised placatingly and though he still held his sword he 
held it in a loose grip with the point towards the ground. 

 “We seek no quarrel with any of dwarf kind, master Dafyd.”  Aragorn said 
earnestly.  Gimli blew air through his tightly clenched teeth at this but he spoke 
no word.  Though, the dwarf’s anger still burned through him, he was willing to 
allow Aragorn to mediate.  “We would gladly leave your kingdom in peace, if you 
will but permit it.”

Dafyd’s eyes traveled from Aragorn to Gimli.  Only when it became apparent that 
Gimli did not intend to contradict Aragorn’s words did the dwarf leader respond: 
“I have said that dwarves stand by their kindred even when their behavior is 
misguided.”  Gimli snarled at this but Pippin touched the dwarf’s arm in a silent 
plea that he remain calm.  “Such is the truth and our brother Gimli is welcome to 
come or go as he pleases.  Though, I would not recommend that he wander the 
halls of Moria by himself.  As for men and for. . . hobbits?” I was surprised that 
this dwarf would have heard of the small creatures.  At Aragorn’s slight nod 
Dafyd continued: “Hobbits.  There is no longstanding enmity between the 
dwarves and these races.  Though we are glad this is so dwarves are also creatures 
of their word.”  Dafyd stopped for a moment and the silence was ominous.

“I have said we have made terms with Saruman and these terms included a 
promise of cooperation.  Not long ago we received word that the wizard had 
developed a fascination with a certain race: smaller than dwarves, with large feet 
and pointed ears called hobbits. If any of these hobbits were found then they 
should be sent immediately to Isengard.  Gimli and the men may go but I must be 
true to my word and cooperate with the white hand.”  Dafyd sounded almost 
apologetic as he spoke.  Even a dwarf had to be moved by the hobbits who looked 
so vulnerable and frightened.

“You shall not have these hobbits without a battle.”  Aragorn said in a tone of 
absolute certainty.

“And does this man speak for all of you?”  Dafyd inquired searching the faces of 
Boromir and Gimli. 

“Aye, that he does!”  Gimli nearly roared.  Boromir concurred with less volume 
but with no less determination.  As he spoke the soldier relaxed his fighting stance 
long enough to tousle Merry’s curls in a gesture meant to convey steadfast 
loyalty.  Naturally, I affirmed also but the dwarf leader did not bother to take note 
of me.

“It would be a battle you would most certainly lose.”  Dafyd said in a voice equal 
to Aragorn’s in certainty but somewhat less in authority.

“Yes, that is true, but consider: If you will but let us all depart this place I offer 
you the lives of your dwarves who would most assuredly die in gaining you your 
victory.  Is a vague promise to Saruman the Betrayer worth the lives of your 
people?  Let us go and no one need die this day.”  Aragorn pleaded.  Though what 
use could there be in appealing to the better nature of creatures such as we now 
faced?

Dafyd was quiet for many moments as he studied the hobbits.  The little ones did 
their best to stand firm under the scrutiny but fear was etched deep in their faces.  
After he examined the hobbits the dwarf leader studied Boromir and then Gimli.  
Gimli met Dafyd’s gaze defiantly and his upper lip curled in anger and contempt.  
The dwarf leader noted this without apparent emotion before moving on to 
Aragorn.  Once again, I found myself ignored.  If this did come to a fight I would 
teach that arrogant dwarf what it meant to disregard an elf.

The dwarf leader’s look lingered longest on Aragorn.  But as I surreptitiously 
watched from the corner of my eye I saw that it was not Aragorn’s face that was 
being inspected.  The dwarf leader’s gaze probed the length of Anduril as it rested 
casually in Aragorn’s grip.  Dafyd’s eye seemed to caress the blade as he took in 
its gleaming length.  He looked at the sword as a gourmet would look at a rare and 
exquisitely prepared dish.  I would not have been surprised if the dwarf had licked 
his lips such was the aura of appreciation that radiated from him.

When Dafyd finally spoke I tensed every muscle certain that the dwarf leader 
would call an attack for I meant to sell my life so dear that these materialistic 
fools would regret the cost.  No order of attack came, however.  Instead the 
dwarf’s speech was conciliatory: “In truth, it does not sit well with my conscience 
that these young, innocent seeming creatures should be given to the wizard for his 
amusement.  It is well known how Saruman delights in tweaking nature and I 
would not readily witness what he has in store.  Even so, I will not ignore my 
agreement.  I propose an alternative solution to our difficulty.”

“You carry an unusual weapon, man.  Such a length of metal must have been 
coaxed whole from the jealous earth.  It is a naturally occurring mithril alloy.  I 
have only known of such combinations in legend.  Ah, I see that though it has 
been forged and reforged in a lesser fire such a blade must have been delivered 
from the rock itself as a babe is delivered from its mother.  It could only have 
been done by dwarves but the precise craft of it has not been seen among my 
people for many generations.”

The dwarf seemed to have abruptly switched topics but it occurred to me that this 
avaricious dwarf might demand Anduril in exchange for the hobbits.  As 
unfortunate as that might be, I could not overlook the dwarf leader’s foolish and 
deceitful boasts.  “This blade was forged by elves and reforged also.  There is 
nothing of the dwarf in the crafting of this sword.  You lack the skill. now as you 
ever have.”  I said hotly.  Anduril had been gifted to Aragorn and to his 
forefathers before as a token of the great esteem in which elves had always held 
the kings of men.  The dwarf was a braggart and a fool.

“Did I claim aught for the dwarves in the forging of this beauty?”  Dafyd 
demanded but he spoke more to Aragorn or to some point in between us.  Even 
now the dwarf leader would not condescend to address me.  “Though perhaps if 
this had been of dwarfish forging there would have been no need for reforging but 
any journeyman artisan can put metal in fire then apply the hammer when the 
metal is hot.  No, I speak of the mining, of the shaping with hammer and chisel as 
the metal still lies in the cold earth.  What fool cares for the forging?”  Dafyd 
asked rhetorically having not once made eye contact with me.  My face was 
flushed and some of the dwarves were snickering.


The dwarf waited for me to open my mouth in reply before he quickly continued 
to put forth his ‘alternative solution.’  “Saruman has ever been a connoisseur of 
heirlooms and. . . heirs.”  There was the sound of a rapidly indrawn breath but I 
was not sure where it had come from.  Dafyd watched our reactions carefully as 
he resumed speaking: “You have spoken for your group once, man.  Now speak 
again.  I will take you and this blade to Isengard in place of the hobbits.  
Thus, I will consider my duty to Saruman fulfilled and none need die this 
day.  What say you?”  My heart seemed to stop as the dwarf concluded his 
proposal.  Did Dafyd know who and what Aragorn was?  Was he 
guessing? Surely he was not speaking in earnest.

“Agreed.”  Aragorn did not even pause.  

There was a sudden chorus of shouts, denials and objections from the 
fellowship which Aragorn somehow managed to quiet though not quite 
silence with the steel of his eyes.  The dwarves looked on cautiously 
prepared to fight if any in the fellowship attacked.  Dafyd, it seemed was 
prepared to give Aragorn the opportunity to convince his friends to accept 
the agreement.  For myself I said nothing as Aragorn struggled to project 
authority, confidence and comfort to the rest of fellowship so that they 
would accept his decision.  I could fit no words passed the sudden fear that 
had risen up in my throat to choke me.  

“Gimli, the hobbits, Boromir and Legolas shall leave these mines without 
opposition and we shall go to Isengard.”  Aragorn said confirming the 
arrangement over the continued murmuring and protests of Boromir, 
Gimli and the hobbits.

Dafyd looked confused for a moment.  “Gimli, the hobbits and the other 
man may go where they will.”  he clarified.

“And Legolas.”  Aragorn insisted gesturing towards me.  The dwarf 
leader’s tiny eyes widened slightly as though he was genuinely surprised 
to learn that I had a name.  Perhaps he had assumed that my parents when 
referring to me would simply point and speak of ‘the elf.’  

“Nay.”  Dafyd spoke as though he suspected Aragorn of trying to make a 
joke.

“Is there nothing I can give you to convince you to allow Legolas to 
leave?  Perhaps there is some service that may be done?  I am not without 
skills.”  Aragorn offered seeking and holding the eyes of the dwarf leader.  
I had to struggle for a moment to retain my impassive expression for I felt 
tears pricking at my eyes.  It broke my heart to hear Aragorn plead for me 
as he never would plead for himself.  I could not bear the thought of these 
dwarves gaining power over my beloved through me.  I will not allow you 
to suffer for me, my soul.

“Not for a hundred swords or a thousand hobbits would I let an elf who 
has come into my power escape me.  Each elf that walks among the living 
is an insult to the sacred memory of my father and my beloved sister.  I 
would pay any price to thwart the evil of the abominable race.  The elf will 
come with us, man, or there will be no bargain.”  There was no mistaking 
the commitment and the hatred in Dafyd’s voice.  It was clear that there 
was no way I would be allowed to leave without a fight and a fight would 
virtually guarantee the death or capture of the hobbits.

“Agreed, then.”  Aragorn acknowledged, voice as heavy as doom.  He 
turned to me eyes dulled with a pain and hopelessness that had been 
completely absent when he had agreed to barter himself for the hobbits.  
“I’m sorry.”  He whispered.  I had no time to tell him that I understood 
before the noise of the fellowship broke through..  He had had no choice. I 
had known for many years now, though I had not spoken of it, that the 
length of my life would be measured by his.  Whatever fate befell I knew 
with certainty that I would not outlive my love by long.  I accepted that 
fact in the same way I accepted the rain, the sunshine and the changing of 
the seasons.  The raw hatred in Dafyd’s voice had shocked me but as yet I 
only feared the dwarves because of their power to harm Aragorn.

“No, No!  You are no dwarf, you are Sauron’s whore!”  Gimli screamed at 
Dafyd.  “Legolas, Aragorn, let us fight.  This slave of the unclean can have 
no courage, no strength.  There will be no bargain and the fellowship shall 
emerge from Moria, once home to the dwarves, victorious over all the 
traitor scum that now skulk about the once great city”  Gimli was 
shouting, red faced and Aragorn had to restrain him or he would have 
charged his several dozen brethren by himself.

“There has to be another way.  There has to be another way.”  Frodo 
repeated urgently tugging on my tunic as his liquid blue eyes darted 
between me and Aragorn as he struggled with Gimli.

Merry and Pippin had jumped to assist Aragorn restrain Gimli but I heard 
Pippin murmuring to himself: “This isn’t real.  This isn’t happening.  It’s 
just a dream.  You’ll wake up soon.  This isn’t real.  Oh, I wish Gandalf 
were here.”  

When Gimli had stopped struggling to attack, Boromir took Aragorn’s 
shoulder and drew his face close to the taller man: “We cannot lose you.  
Do not do this.”  He spoke with quiet intensity and he did not release his 
grip on Aragorn’s shoulder.

“We cannot risk another battle.  Get them out of here, Boromir.  Nothing 
is as important as their safety.”  Though Aragorn spoke of ‘them’ it was 
clear that there was only whose safety was most  essential.  Frodo moaned 
softly with the terrible knowledge and Sam put his arms around the frail 
hobbit.

Boromir hesitated a few moments caught in indecision.  Emotions battled 
openly across his face.  The warrior did not wish to leave a battle, he did 
not want to abandon two of his companions, yet he was sworn to protect 
Frodo and he loved Merry and Pippin and even Sam.  There was 
something else also.  Something that had been growing between the blond 
soldier and the taller man and which now commanded Boromir to stay at 
Aragorn’s side at any cost and which also commanded Boromir to obey 
the dark haired ranger.  Unable to do both but unwilling to choose a single 
course, Boromir stood wavering, searching Aragorn’s face as though the 
answer was there. 

Finally, the soldier squared his shoulders.  “Return to us, lord.”  It was the 
first time he had ever  addressed Aragorn so.  Next, he sought my eyes and 
I smiled at him with the same smile of reassurance I had given him when 
first I met him wandering the halls of Rivendell.  Boromir nodded, then, 
and turned from me and Aragorn.  “Sam, Merry.  Collect Frodo.  We are 
leaving.”

“Boromir!  What are you doing?”  Gimli demanded as Sam and Merry 
began to lead the now passive Frodo away from the dwarves.

Boromir waited for the three hobbits to get a little way ahead before he 
took Gimli by the shoulders forcing him to turn and then pushing him in 
the direction the hobbits had taken: “Come on, Gimli.  We need to look 
after the little ones.”  Boromir said calmly as Pippin took the dwarf’s hand 
to urge him onwards.

“Have you gone mad?”  The dwarf shouted as he struggled against 
Boromir and tried to gently escape Pippin.  “Legolas, Legolas!  Let me go, 
damn you!  Legolas, Aragorn!  If they come to harm, I swear by my 
fathers if they come to harm there will be nowhere on this earth or under it 
where you will be able to escape the vengeance of Gimli of the dwarves of 
the Lonely Mountain.  Do you hear me, you vermin?”

The dwarf continued to shout threats and imprecations as he was led away.  
Frodo had offered no resistance when his friends had put their arms 
around him and began chivying him along, but he looked back often, his 
large blue eyes communicating a soul deep weariness and sorrow.  When 
Gimli’s voice had faded to nothing with distance Aragorn removed his 
sword-belt and passed the sheathed Anduril to the dwarf leader who 
received it with something akin to reverence except there was too much 
greed in his eyes.  

I allowed my lip to curl slightly in contempt as I flung my knives, hilts 
first, at the dwarf leader’s feet.  I was gratified to see the fool take a 
panicked step backward as my weapons clattered harmlessly on the stone 
near him.  My satisfaction did not last long, however.  One of the other 
dwarves had found my bow where I had set it when my quiver had run 
empty during our previous battle.  I nearly cringed as the dwarf brought 
his knee up swiftly and the beautiful length of yew wood snapped.  That 
bow had served me well for many years and I had come to think of it 
almost as a friend but I would not show my tormentors how much the 
bow’s destruction pained me.

I felt small grubby hands run quickly over my body searching for 
concealed weapons.  I felt a small shiver of disgust but I suppressed it.  
When the search was over my arms were jerked painfully behind my back 
and my wrists were tied with a long strip of leather cord.  I had found the 
brief contact with the dwarf completely distasteful, though I had submitted 
to it with stoic dignity.  I was surprised, however, when the dwarf having 
completed his tasks rubbed his hands on the front of his tunic while he 
looked as though he had bitten into something rotten.  I had assumed, 
without really thinking about it, that the dwarves’ unreasoning hatred of 
elves derived from jealousy.  Surely the dwarves adored an elf’s natural 
beauty and grace even as they loathed us for it, yet I sensed only revulsion 
from the dwarf who had touched me.  It was almost as if the *dwarf* felt 
defiled by the contact.  It didn’t make sense.

As I considered this another dwarf had been searching Aragorn.  The 
meticulous wretch found and extracted the knife my ever cautious ranger 
kept in his boot.  Afterward, Aragorn’s hands were likewise secured 
behind him.  Dafyd, who had been supervising spoke conversationally to 
Aragorn: “I hope you won’t take this too much amiss.”  The dwarf 
commented as a loop of rope was suddenly thrown over my neck.  If they 
meant to strangle me then I would certainly fight, but though the rope was 
tightened a little I could still breathe easily.  “It’s not meant to be 
demeaning.  It is only that no one but a fool would tamely walk into what 
Saruman is likely to do to you and since I doubt you are a fool we must 
take precautions.  If you cooperate there is no reason for things to become 
unpleasant.”  The dwarf finished amiably.
Aragorn, had been subjected to the same treatment as I and as I looked at 
Aragorn realization dawned.  The rope was not a noose; it was a leash!  
Anger and resentment washed over me.  How dare they?  How dare they 
seek to harness an elf like a pet or a beast of burden?  It was a terrible 
insult.  I seethed with rage but if I struggled or protested now, it would 
accomplish nothing and would only serve to diminish my dignity.  I bit my 
lip, hard.  It almost made sense from the dwarf’s unnecessarily short 
perspective.  With the rope, it would be easier to lead or restrain their 
much taller captives.  Even so, I planned to extract a bloody vengeance for 
this affront.

“You must do what you think is right, Dafyd.”  Aragorn answered the 
dwarf leader without obvious emotion.  Dafyd did not appear to like 
Aragorn’s response, however, for he frowned and scratched his chin.  
What had he expected, gratitude? Forgiveness? Some companionable 
conversation?

It did not take the dwarf leader long, though, to find a more cheerful topic.  
Still addressing Aragorn Dafyd said: “Saruman has his faults, it is true.  I 
won’t say that there aren’t things he does that turn my stomach.  But the 
wizard knows how best to deal with an elf and this pays for all.  So long as 
two creatures can agree that the least offensive elf is an orc then there will 
always be a basis for understanding.”

Well, at least I now knew why I had not been killed immediately after the 
fellowship departed.  The dwarf’s words had obviously been meant for me 
but Dafyd still refused to speak to me directly.  Apparently, the dwarf 
considered Saruman to be a more adept torturer.  This information was 
chilling but the dwarf wanted me to be afraid and it gave me a perverse 
satisfaction to deny him.

“A shared taste for the misery of others may indeed be the basis for a 
temporary alliance but where do you suppose Saruman will turn when he 
has had a surfeit of elfish suffering?”  Aragorn was still obviously 
attempting to appeal to the dwarf’s morality or even his sense of his own 
best interests, but I had seen the dwarf’s eyes and his hatred was a 
madness blinding him to all else.

“There can never be a surfeit of elfish suffering!”  Dafyd yelled, but then 
he calmed and spoke wryly as though he were faintly embarrassed by his 
earlier lack of control: “Don’t be so certain you occupy the moral high 
ground just yet.  What has the dark lord done to you that you seek to 
destroy him?  Do you not glory in the slaughter of orcs?  I do not know 
you, man, and mayhap you have suffered much.  It could be for there is 
much about you that speaks of hardships endured and overcome, but I 
believe I could take your hardships and laugh.  Shall we compare our 
wounds and see who has the greater grievance?  If I had the power I would 
turn every elf into dust and ash for their crimes.  And the Valar themselves 
would call it justice.  Or they would if the thrice damned elves were not 
their special pets and favorites.  Never look to the gods for impartiality, 
my fellow mortal.  You shall not find it.”  With that Dafyd turned on his 
heel and signaled the group to begin the march.  After a sharp tug on the 
rope around my neck I fell into step beside Aragorn.

The dwarf was mad.  There was no other explanation.  How could he 
believe himself justified?  He had spoken of imagined ‘crimes’ but he had 
not elaborated.  Aragorn had not asked him and I would not speak to 
someone who refused to speak to me so the precise nature of his delusions 
was unknown.

I was brought from my thoughts by the lilting musical sound of elfish 
spoken in Aragorn’s rich voice and my heart was filled with gladness: 
“Legolas, are you all right?”  Aragorn’s voice was filled with concern.  
Knowing my beloved as I did, his question did not surprise me.  My poor 
Aragorn would worry for my well-being without giving a thought for 
himself.  He would torture himself with guilt for allowing me to fall into 
the power of the dwarves’ as though I would have permitted him to go 
alone.  I longed to go to him and hold him in my arms.  I wanted to tell 
him that everything was all right, that he had not betrayed me and that I 
loved him.

“I am well, my hope.  Don’t fret.  It is a long way to Isengard.  Saruman 
will not have either of us for his prize.”  I promised in Elfish, my voice 
filled with confidence and reassurance.

I believed Aragorn would have said more but I felt my neck jerked 
painfully downward before the rope slackened.  One of the dwarves 
ordered Aragorn to be quiet and hoping to spare me any further abuse 
Aragorn fell silent.  It was odd how scrupulous the dwarves were about 
ignoring me.  I should have found it amusing but I did not.  I think I would 
have preferred it had they taunted me.  As it was I felt myself degraded in 
a way that was difficult to explain.  Even so, I was glad that the dwarves 
seemed prepared to not only address Aragorn but even to treat him with 
courtesy- as far as one could treat another with courtesy when one was 
taking him to be tortured.  I could just manage to endure captivity and the 
dwarves’ treatment but if Aragorn was hurt I knew I would go shrieking 
mad with blood lust and thus destroy our chance at escape.

Soon the dwarves took up a song in their native tongue as we traveled 
through the endless mines.  I recognized it as something Gimli had often 
sung quietly to himself.  I felt the dark as a living, breathing, hungry thing.  
I looked to Aragorn for solace and the light in his eyes was my shield.  
How strange it was for when Gimli sang I had thought the song a pleasant 
melody but now it was as the music of my own funeral dirge.
*
Had I complained before about this light forsaken place?  Well, I am paid 
for it now.  Helpless and surrounded by enemies everything was worse.  It 
was only Aragorn’s presence that kept my mind focused and the shadows 
at bay.  I had assumed we would soon leave Moria and travel overland to 
Isengard.  I had counted upon this for I felt confident about our chances of 
escape above ground.  In the vastness of Moria, though it shames me to 
say so, I doubted I would have left the group even had I had the 
opportunity.  At least the dwarves were a known threat but who could tell 
what other fouler menace waited in the dark.

We marched for what seemed like days but was probably only hours.  
There appeared to be signs that our route was a comparatively recent 
addition to the mines.  This evidence terrified me.  What if we traveled 
underground only to emerge on Saruman’s doorstep?  How could I 
tolerate being so long in a darkness that seemed to smother the light of the 
few torches making the air thick with smoke?  From time to time the walls 
of the caverns glowed eerily with a natural fosforesance.  Though it 
illuminated it cast a lurid and sickly glow which was almost worse than 
the darkness.  I recognized it as panic but I felt fevered with the desire to 
escape.  I had to run.  I felt it as a physical need which I only barely 
suppressed.  As these thoughts assailed me I made an involuntary sound of 
distress.  Chagrined I quickly closed my mouth over any further cries and 
hoped that the dwarves had not heard me.  Apparently the dwarves had not 
but Aragorn brushed my shoulder with his own in the only way we could 
express comfort and support with our hands bound.

Eventually Dafyd called a halt.  The dwarves relaxed or rummaged about 
for food or tobacco.  Aragorn was ordered to sit and as he did so I sat by 
him quickly.  The dwarf who held the rope looped around my neck looked 
annoyed that he had not gotten the chance to give the instruction to me in 
his own way.  My neck was sore and abraded from his other attempts at 
nonverbal communication.  While the dwarves took advantage of the 
break I resisted the temptation to rest my head against Aragorn’s chest.  
Instead I murmured to him of the fears that had been plaguing me.

“I desire the sun, my hope.  This place defeats my reason.  How can these 
tunnels stretch so impossibly far?”  I whispered lest the dwarves overhear 
and interfere with our talk.  The sound of my own voice startled me and I 
wished that I had sounded more in control and less like a frightened child.

“I doubt there was enough time for these renegade dwarves to extend the 
mines as far as Isengard, Beloved.  You will see the sun again.  We will 
come through this together.”  Aragorn replied in soothing tones.  I 
desperately wanted reassurance but as I sat I picked Aragorn’s words apart 
in my mind.  We had no idea how long the dwarves had been mining these 
caverns.  It could have been years.  We didn’t know how many dwarves 
there were either.  They could have had the time and resources to tunnel 
all the way to Mordor for aught we knew.

“Don’t patronize me, Aragorn.  If you think we are going to die just say 
so.  You needn’t sugar coat your words for my benefit, man.  I am not a 
hobbit who needs to be deluded with false hope.  We are to be given over 
to torment and death.  Let us not waste the time we have on deception.”  
Even I recognized the hysteria in my voice.  I was shaking a little and I 
felt as though the air had grown thicker making it difficult to breathe.

Aragorn maneuvered around a little until he was more or less facing me 
then he brought his forehead to rest against my own forehead.  Our eyes 
were just inches apart and I could feel Aragorn’s breath against my face.  
“Legolas, beloved, be calm.  I would not deceive you.  It is not time to 
abandon hope.  Rest easy, my love, conserve your strength.”  Aragorn 
spoke softly and sought to catch and hold my gaze.

I took in deep, slow breaths trying to fight the urge to gibber in terror or 
bury my head in Aragorn’s shoulder weeping and sobbing.  After a few 
moment I began to regain a bit of my composure.  “I am sorry, Aragorn.  I 
was overcome for a moment.”  I apologized.

“This is a cruel place for you, my angel.”  Aragorn whispered as he bent 
his head to kiss me tenderly on the temple.  I pressed up into the kiss.  I 
wanted Aragorn’s protection and strength desperately.  If I could be 
surrounded by my beloved’s scent, feel his heat, listen to the beating of his 
heart and feel his touch then nothing could hurt me. Moving from my 
temple to my cheek and then to my lips Aragorn continued to kiss me.  I 
opened my mouth wanting to deepen the kiss.  I wanted to lose myself in 
Aragorn.  Now I trembled again but I had forgotten fear and darkness.

The thud of boots on stone suddenly intruded and Aragorn broke away 
from me.  A few of the dwarves had been casting occasional glances upon 
us.  Though it seemed they watched only to prevent any escape attempt.  
Apparently, they had taken no pleasure in the display for one of the 
dwarves looked ill and none had the gleam of voyeuristic delight in his 
eye.  I felt no embarrassment about revealing our intimacy but I thought 
Aragorn seemed slightly abashed as he faced the owner of the thudding 
boots.

The dwarf who had interrupted us came to offer Aragorn water.  At first, 
he refused to drink because I was not going to be allowed to slake my own 
thirst.  I pleaded with him in elfish that he needed to drink to keep up his 
strength.  The dwarf complained that he wasn’t about to help carry 
Aragorn if he passed out from dehydration.  Eventually Aragorn agreed to 
take a few sips from the waterskin that the dwarf held up for him.  I was 
greatly relieved.  I could not bear it if Aragorn denied himself what were 
necessities for a human just to show solidarity with me.  I should be the 
one making sacrifices for him.  I was so disappointed with myself for not 
being stronger.

The march quickly resumed.  I braced myself for another long trek 
through the featureless halls.  Soon, however, we came to a fork in the 
path.  One way continued in a broad thoroughfare like the one we had 
been traveling.  The other way was a much narrower path.  Both tunnels, 
however, seemed to go in approximately the same direction.  There was a 
rumble of discussion from the dwarves at the head of the line.  Aragorn’s 
brow creased in concentration and he strained forward to catch the words.

A decision was made and Aragorn and I were tugged in the direction of 
the smaller tunnel.  My heart sank.  It was bad enough being trapped and 
bound in the large echoing darkness but the thought of the weight of all 
that rock pressing close in on me nearly made me cry out.  I was 
withdrawing into myself trying to avoid confronting my stifling 
surroundings.  I was so busy trying to dam the rising flood of panic that I 
nearly didn’t hear Aragorn call out a question to the dwarf leader.

“Why do we take this path when the other is more direct?”  I did not know 
how Aragorn knew the other route was more direct.  Perhaps he was 
simply guessing or perhaps he had gleaned a few words from the dwarves’ 
conversation.  Whatever the case, I gratefully focused on Aragorn’s voice 
hoping it would blot out the fear.

For a few moments I thought Dafyd was going to ignore the question but 
eventually he paused waiting for me and Aragorn to catch up to him.  
“Orcs will be traveling down the broader path from Isengard.  We will 
move faster if we do not encounter them.”  The dwarf explained.

“You have managed to extend Moria quite a distance.”  Aragorn said 
impassively.

The dwarf leader shrugged but his eyes shone with pride.  “We have been 
working for many long months and we had the use of orcs to do the 
menial labor but our progress has exceeded expectation.  This tunnel we 
are taking now was built first.  We had to hollow everything out by hand.  
See!”  The dwarf gestured toward the cave ceiling which was rapidly 
descending.  “Every six paces we had to stop and map the rock strata.  
Once we did that we could use machines and orcs to construct the larger 
tunnel.”  Dafyd was obviously passionate about his work.  Enthusiastic 
gestures accompanied his lecture.  He was speaking to Aragorn as though 
he had forgotten the man was a prisoner.

“How large is this tunnel at its narrowest point?”  Aragorn asked and his 
question was not mere theoretical curiosity for with every step the passage 
seemed to shrink.

“Its about five feet wide and five and a half feet high for most of its 
length.  We built store rooms every few mile or so to keep supplies from 
littering the mineshaft.  You see here how we used wooden support 
beams?  In the larger passage we used stone columns.  Usually we fill 
these tunnels when the larger passageways are constructed but we have 
had little time for artistic. . .” 

The dwarf continued to prattle on but I could no longer listen.  Not only 
would we be traveling all the way to Isengard underground, without a 
chance to escape but Aragorn and I were both taller than this tunnel was 
high.  And there was something else too.  My thoughts were all a jumble.  
There was something about a large number of orcs traveling from 
Isengard.  What was their target?  Gondor?  Lorien?  I was finding it hard 
to drag enough air into my lungs.  The tunnel was getting smaller.  My 
head was spinning.  My heart was beating fast, too fast.  I wanted to run, 
to scream, to do anything to stop this awful feeling.

Suddenly Aragorn was calling my name and I felt a painful jerk at my 
neck.  I focused in on these two things: the sound of Aragorn’s voice and 
the pain.  These things were real and I could use them to anchor myself to 
sanity.  I again became aware of my surroundings.  I had no idea how long 
I had been lost in the labyrinth of my own mind but I was still walking and 
the tunnel was still just high enough for me to walk upright.  Dafyd was no 
longer in sight, though and the dwarf who held the rope tied around my 
neck was pulling insistently.  Aragorn watched me from worried eyes.  I 
tried to smile at him to show that I was myself again but I could not quite 
manage it.  Even so, the return of awareness to my expression must have 
relieved Aragorn for the fear in his eyes diminished a little and he no 
longer called my name.

I tried desperately to keep my mind and body under my own control.  I 
couldn’t let my panic master me.  I concentrated upon listening to the 
sound of Aragorn’s steady breathing.  I counted the beats of my heart.  I 
mentally described in minute detail a small grove in Mirkwood where 
Aragorn and I had often met.  As I did this I felt myself grow slightly 
calmer.  Over and over I told myself that I would not allow myself to 
succumb to fear; I was strong.

The passage continued to narrow.  Soon Aragorn and I had to walk 
crouched low with backs and knees bent.  Stalwartly I battled the feeling 
that I was being buried alive.  Instead I focused on the mundane 
discomfort of neck, back and legs.  I believe it was harder for Aragorn.  
His muscles would cramp long before mine would.  Also his greater 
height forced him to bend even lower and several times I heard the back of 
his head bump against the descending ceiling.  Anger replaced fear as I 
hated the dwarves for putting me and my beloved through this death 
march.

Anger gave me strength and I clung to it.  I was so caught up in nursing 
my rage that the sound of gravel shifting under a booted foot did not 
register with me immediately.  Aragorn hit the floor with a harsh thud.  
His bound hands had not only made it difficult for him to maintain his 
equilibrium but he had not been able to reach out to steady himself.  
Aragorn had fallen flat on his back and his breath seemed to have been 
knocked out of him.  Instan