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.  Instantly I was on my knees beside him.  I nearly 
strangled until the fool holding the rope around my neck came to his 
senses and slackened his hold.  I was desperate to make sure my beloved 
was all right so I struggled frantically against the cords binding my hands 
and ignored the raw chafing against my windpipe and my wrists as my 
eyes ran over Aragorn’s prone body.

“Are you all right?  Are you hurt?”  I asked anxiously as I viciously 
yanked on the damned cords restraining me.   I wanted to cradle Aragorn’s 
head in my hands.  I wanted to soothe the muscles of his shoulders, legs 
and back.  I needed to shelter him somehow but I was helpless.

“I have only scratched my dignity a bit, my Legolas.  I’m all right”  
Aragorn answered a bit ruefully when he had his breath back.  Wincing 
slightly my beloved sat up and then got to his knees so he could stand.  A 
dwarf had taken a hold of Aragorn’s arm to help him to his feet.  I seethed 
inwardly that I could not even do so simple a thing as lend my hand to 
Aragorn.  When Aragorn stood he must have forgotten the height of the 
tunnel for his head cracked sharply against the ceiling.  For a moment 
Aragorn’s eyes misted with the sudden pain. 

I was filled with a sudden rage and an overpowering sense of helplessness.  
I wanted to beat my fists against the cave ceiling.  I wanted to kick the 
stone floor.  I wanted to fire arrow after arrow into the soul of Moria itself.  
“How long until this rabbit warren widens out?”  I demanded fiercely in 
the common tongue, trying to find some outlet for my frustration.  None of 
the dwarves even turned to look at me.

“Answer me, gods damn you!”  I said my voice unnaturally shrill.  Again 
there was no response.

“What is the matter with you?”  I shouted slipping back into elfish without 
truly being aware of it.  

I strained against the rope around my neck.  The dwarfs’ refusal to 
acknowledge me had worn me down.  I had never been so estranged from 
my environment.  I did not belong here.  I felt like a ghost, trapped in 
middle earth but unable to communicate with the living.  I took savage 
delight in watching the dwarf who held the other end of my leading rope 
struggle to hold on, even as the flesh of my neck was torn away.  The rope 
had become my only connection to the living and so I tugged upon it 
ruthlessly.

“Legolas.  Legolas!  Stop it!”  Aragorn yelled though he still seemed to be 
shaking off the effects of cracking his head against the stone.  

Somehow I did manage to stop even though my breath still came in ragged 
gasps and cold sweat dampened my brow.  “I cannot endure this, my 
hope.”  I moaned pitifully, all thought of pride forgotten.

“It cannot last forever, angel mine.  I promise you this all will end but you 
have to be strong a little while longer.  I’m depending on you Legolas.  I 
need you to stay with me.  Please.”  My beloved entreated.  I swallowed 
hard and nodded.  Shame burned away the last of my panic.  How strange 
it was that though I had lived through centuries the madness of a moment 
threatened to overwhelm me.  I wish I knew where all the much vaunted 
elfish wisdom was now.

We had fallen a few steps behind the major part of the group when 
Aragorn fell and I had been attacked by a momentary madness.  So the 
dwarves forced us into an awkward crouching jog to catch up.  I did my 
best to keep up so the dwarves would have no excuse to yank on my 
leading rope.  My neck was covered in bloody track marks and I had no 
wish to make them worse.  Aragorn kept his gaze fixed on the ground 
before him so that he could avoid the piles of rubble, abandoned or broken 
tools and other detritus that lay about the cavern.  Thus Aragorn and I 
continued on, docile prisoners for Saruman’s amusement.
*
It was becoming harder to remember a time when the world was not 
cloaked in darkness.  The memory of sun-drenched oceans of green grass 
and the star bespangled night sky were receding like a dream upon 
waking.  There was darkness ahead of me and darkness behind me for ever 
and ever.  The only marker of time was the growing strain in my legs, 
back, neck and shoulders.  Aragorn had told me that this could not last 
forever but each moment had become an eternity unto itself.

Suddenly the monotony was shattered as I felt a displacement of air and 
then I heard a loud thud.  Aragorn had again missed a step or perhaps his 
muscles had cramped in rebellion against  the abuse of the long miles.  
Once again alarm seized me.  Aragorn lay on his shoulder, his back to the 
cave wall.  I pulled forward to go to him but this time the dwarf held my 
leading rope taut.  I called Aragorn’s name and every second he did not 
answer filled me with a sickening dread.  Each time I called out I grew 
increasingly frantic.  Finally, Aragorn started to move a little.  

“I think- I think I’m all right.”  Aragorn’s voice sounded strained and a 
little unnatural but relief flooded me just to hear lucid speech and to see 
movement.  Aragorn had managed to sit up, though he kept his back 
against the wall for support.  The muscles in his legs were almost 
twitching as they were allowed to extend to their full length.  Several 
dwarves were now hovering over Aragorn.  Seeing no obvious damage 
they took a hold of his arms to pull him upright.  The man was dead 
weight in their grip, however, so they let go.  Apparently they were 
prepared to wait a few moments for Aragorn to recover. 

Aragorn remained still for so long that the dwarves ahead noticed.  Word 
traveled and soon Dafyd, himself, came stomping back to us:  “What’s 
wrong?”  he asked the cluster of dwarves who were apparently responsible 
for the prisoners.

One dwarf- they all looked alike to me- answered with a shrug:  “The man 
keeps slipping and the elf is already half crazy.”

“Afraid of the dark.”  Another dwarf added smugly.

“An elf’s spirit is like ice: cold and brittle.”  Dafyd said in a way that 
made me think he had said it often.

The dwarf leader then turned his attention to Aragorn who met his gaze 
but made no move to rise.  Then Dafyd looked up just a person would if 
he wanted to judge the time by the sun’s position in the sky.  “We’ll stop 
at the next marker.  They’ll make it that far.”  The dwarf decided.

“We may as well cut the elf’s throat now and save ourselves some effort.  
He won’t make it all the way to Isengard.  If he is spooked now he’ll be 
frothing at the mouth by morning.”  The first dwarf said, sounding surly.  I 
was almost past caring about their threats but I saw a subtle change come 
over Aragorn.  His eyes grew dangerously alert.  Without moving an inch 
all the evidence of the man’s fatigue and near exhaustion vanished and he 
was like the coils of a compressed spring.  Perhaps my great love for 
Aragorn made me especially aware of him, his moods, his actions but in 
that moment the man hummed with potential violence.  The dwarves, 
though less perceptive, must have caught something of the change for 
signs of uneasiness crept into their movements and their gazes shifted 
warily.

Finally, Dafyd’s deep voice cut through the crackling air.  “Then we’ll put 
him in a sack and carry him the rest of the way.  He doesn’t have to be 
sane to appreciate the hospitality of Isengard.  Now quit jawing and get 
moving.  It’s already been a beard burner of a day without any of your 
back talk.”  With that Dafyd turned and headed back to the front of the 
group.

This time when the dwarves took a hold of Aragorn’s arms the man stood 
and we marched on.
*
It was not long before Dafyd called a halt to the day’s journey.  All around 
me dwarves were setting up camp.  In truth, I was desperate to rest.  I felt 
an exhaustion that went beyond the merely physical.  I was led to a small 
break in the cave wall that was covered by a heavy wooden door.  The 
aperture was hidden such that had I not been brought directly to it I never 
would have noticed its existence.  It suddenly occurred to me that this was 
the entrance to my grave.  The rope around my neck was finally removed, 
though my wrists remained tied.  The door was opened and the dwarves 
started shoving me towards it.  Mortal terror swept through me and I dug 
my heels in. The dwarves cursed and began pushing harder.  I twisted and 
struggled, not caring how I appeared.

“Legolas, it is just a storeroom.  It’s all right.”  Aragorn’s voice broke 
through my increasing panic.  Carefully, without ceasing to struggle, I 
took another look at the small room.  Now I could see there were a few of 
the naturally luminescent rocks within the tiny room.  The pattern of dust 
and gravel made it clear that though it was now empty large sacks- 
probably containing some foodstuffs- had been piled against the walls.  
There was also the faint smell of lamp oil and tallow.  I paused in 
confusion.  I could have sworn that the dwarves had been forcing me into 
a wall niche in a mausoleum or even into a coffin but now I could see that 
it was as Aragorn had said- just a storeroom.

The dwarves took advantage of my hesitation to finally push me into the 
room.  As soon as I crossed the threshold I started to make a small keening 
noise.  I tried to push my way out again but I made no progress.  Then 
suddenly Aragorn was with me in the small room and I made no further 
attempt to escape.  The dwarves untied Aragorn’s hands and I pressed 
against him, trying to muffle the undignified wailing against his chest.  
When his hands were free, the dwarves moved to close the heavy door 
behind us but they were interrupted by the impatient call of their leader.

“Wait, just leave the elf in there.”  Dafyd ordered.  “Don’t put them 
together.  The elf will almost certainly become violent in the night and I 
don’t want to deal with that sort of mess tomorrow morning.”  Shrugging 
the dwarves began to pry us apart shepherding Aragorn toward the door.

“No, no!”  I screamed at the dwarves surrounding me as I kicked and 
thrashed.  Aragorn had reached up to drape his left arm over my shoulder 
while he encircled my waist with his right arm.  I had no time to think on 
it but it seemed to me that there was a weakness in his grip that I had 
never felt before.

“Leave us together, Dafyd.  You need have no concern for me.”  Aragorn 
spoke cooly, looking the dwarf leader in the eye.  Dafyd crossed his arms 
over his chest and returned Aragorn’s implacable stare measure for 
measure.

“Ouch!  Damn it!”  From my left a howl broke through the stalemate as I 
managed to land a particularly vicious kick to one of the dwarves pulling 
me away from Aragorn.  “Why don’t we just leave them together, Dafyd?  
If anything maybe the man can keep the elf quiet.  We have been without 
news of the outside world for so long now that you may as well wait and 
gossip with the wizard.  These two deserve each other. ”  The now 
wounded dwarf suggested sending dark looks in my direction.  

The dwarf leader gave his subordinate a withering glare before once again 
turning toward Aragorn.  “You do him no service by catering to his 
weaknesses.  Leave him to his madness.  You cannot help him.  You only 
injure yourself by remaining with him.”

Aragorn did not answer nor did he loose his hold upon me.  Finally, Dafyd 
turned away in disgust.  “Be it on your own head, then.”  So saying he 
signaled the dwarves that were still trying to separate Aragorn and me to 
leave.  A moment later the oak door boomed shut, leaving me and Aragorn 
alone together.

With the dwarves gone I was finally able to stop myself from making that 
infantile whimpering sound.  Aragorn kept his arms around me as we 
slipped carefully to the floor, stretching long abused muscles.   I pressed 
myself into Aragorn, trying to embrace him even though my arms were 
still tied behind me.  It seemed to take a long time for Aragorn to free me 
and I struggled to keep my patience as he worked on the ropes.

When Aragorn finally managed to release me I flung my arms around his 
neck.  For the first few moments all I could do was hold him but I soon 
became uneasy.  Aragorn was too still.  He was sitting with his back to the 
wall and his legs out in front of him but he made no move to make himself 
more comfortable.  He was not truly reciprocating my embrace.  His arms 
were around me but it felt as though they had no strength of their own and 
had been arranged that way- like a doll’s arms.

“What’s wrong.”  I asked as I gently took Aragorn’s hands thinking to 
press them against my chest and lips.  To my horror Aragorn’s left hand 
was wet to the touch.  There was very little illumination in this storeroom 
turned dungeon but in the half light I could see Aragorn’s hands were red 
with blood.  I searched desperately for a source of the blood.  The ropes 
had chafed away much of the flesh around his wrists but those wounds 
though they oozed blood and fluid could not account for all of it.

“Left arm.”  Aragorn directed in a tight voice.  His shoulder twitched as 
though he had intended to raise the arm but the movement died before 
reaching his elbow.  With great care I moved his sleeve aside, then caught 
my breath. Partly concealed by blood and the shadow of cloth lay a long 
arch of metal.

“It seemed such a pity to let a useful tool lie abandoned.”  Aragorn said 
with a smile that turned into a grimace as I strove to extricate the blade 
from where he had pushed it into his arm.  Now that I looked closely I 
could see that the metal almost certainly came from a broken axe blade.  
Aragorn must have picked it up and concealed it in his sleeve the second 
time he had fallen in the cavern.

“It was too great a risk.”  I chided.  Seeing Aragorn collapse had scared 
me more than I was able to express. 

“There was no risk.  I could not have remained on my feet much longer 
even had there been no weapon to tempt me.  Every step I took was one 
more than I expected.”  Aragorn said, letting his eyes drift closed as if to 
demonstrate his weariness.

“Can you move your fingers?”  I asked putting the blade fragment aside 
and continuing to inspect Aragorn.  

Large grey eyes opened and regarded me with a slightly wounded 
expression.   “Of course I can move my fingers.”  I waited expectantly.  
The blade had cut long, harsh furrows into Aragorn’s forearm.  He must 
have had to push it deep into his flesh to make sure it did not fall clattering 
to the cave floor.  Finally, Aragorn sighed and twitched the fingers on his 
left hand. 

I studied our joined hands for a moment.  Marks ran around my wrists like 
red bracelets against ivory skin.  Already the red was softening into pink.  
Soon all the evidence of this day’s toil would disappear leaving me as I 
had been: without blemish.  By contrast, Aragorn’s skin was mottled red 
and white.  Purple bruises were beginning to form haphazardly.  His 
fingers, once capable of the most precise and delicate of operations were 
swollen and abnormally hot.  His movements were clumsy and even my 
light touch seemed to cause him pain.  It would take him hours perhaps 
days to heal completely.

Suddenly I found the relentless beauty of my own body offensive.  I was 
overcome with an almost irresistible desire to seize the axe blade and hack 
at my own hands, mangle the complacent beauty of a form that came too 
easily to be worth anything.  I took a deep breath and turned away from 
the enticing metal.  There would be blood and soon but not mine and not 
Aragorn’s.

I conjured images of fierce vengeance while I let my fingertips roam over 
Aragorn’s back, neck, arms and shoulders.  Diligently, I probed at the hard 
knots of muscle.  I needed to distract my mind from brooding on this vast 
darkness but even more than that I needed to feel useful.  I had to do 
something to convince myself that Aragorn was even fractionally better 
off for my presence. Elves were independent creatures, more inclined to 
grant favors than to request them.  An elf rarely needed to look past 
himself to fulfil any of his needs.  Yet in this place I was almost a burden.  
Occasionally Aragorn would flinch beneath my questing fingers and I 
would wince in sympathy.  I could not restrain myself from asking at 
almost every touch if he was in pain.  Always he would answer ‘no’ unless 
his body obviously betrayed him.  Then he would only say ‘pins and 
needles’ as he gritted his teeth and held his breath waiting for the spasms 
to pass. 

Aside from his infuriating stoicism Aragorn was tractable enough under 
my crude attempts to palliate his discomfort yet he was not so compliant 
as to be worrying.  Since there was no water and no clean bandages I 
could do very little for his arm except keep the cloth of his sleeves out of 
the injury.  As I carefully removed Aragorn’s shirt and tunic I could not 
entirely suppress a small shiver of excitement.  There was a part of me that 
would always respond to Aragorn on a physical, animal level regardless of 
any other circumstances.  I smiled indulgently at my own ardor before 
focusing once more upon the task of making my ranger as much at ease as 
possible.  My own internal thermometer informed me that Aragorn would 
still be comfortable without the extra layers and I wanted unobstructed 
access to the planes and curves of his torso.  Long moments passed but 
eventually I sensed Aragorn beginning to relax.  ‘Sleep,’ I coaxed 
mentally.  ‘I will look after you now,’ I promised my ranger, drawing him 
closer.
*


Title: Choosing Friends
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.


*
The night was preternaturally silent.  Not even the sighing of the grass marked my 
passage.  I listened for the sound of insects or the rustle of a squirrel or rabbit but 
there was nothing.  Perhaps a predator had just stalked through and the lesser 
creatures had not yet emerged from hiding.  Pale moonlight reflected dully from 
the surface of the lake- but there was no moon underground.  I shook my head.  Of 
course, there was a moon.  What else could be the source of the anemic light?  
The sea lapped at the shore inviting me into the warm tide.  The sea?  Hadn’t it 
just been a lake?  Something was badly wrong.  I had to concentrate but it was so 
much easier to let my body be carried by the rising and falling salt water.  So 
peaceful.

“Legolas.”  The gulls cried beckoning me to them.

“Legolas.”  Something had changed about the summons.  It was no longer so 
gentle, so soothing.  A hand seized my wrist with violent strength.  Then there 
was a loud clatter.  My lassitude was dissolving quickly now.  

“Aragorn?”  I asked still confused.  “What is wrong?”  I had almost asked him if 
he wanted to swim in the sea with me but I was slowly beginning to realize that 
that wouldn’t have mad any sense to the man.

“What are you doing, Legolas?”  The demand rang out loud and angry.  I blinked.  
I could not remember a time Aragorn was ever this angry.  To my surprise, I 
found myself a little frightened by his passion and intensity.  I wanted to retreat a 
step or two but he still held my wrist.  I saw the pulse beating in the knuckles of 
his still swollen hand and I knew it must have hurt him to keep such a tight grip.  I 
was about to suggest as calmly as possible that Aragorn relax his hold but my eye 
was caught by a faint gleam from the floor.  The glint of metal in the eerie 
illumination of the storeroom did have a slight resemblance to moonlight.  Then I 
saw what Aragorn must have seen.  There were five long cuts down my arm, each 
slightly deeper than the last.  Blood welled from these cuts in warm currents.  I 
felt my stomach churn.  

“What is happening here?”  Aragorn demanded again, eyes burning deeply into 
me.

“I don’t know.”  I muttered thickly, bending my head.  I had not known what I 
was doing and that left me not only frightened but painfully embarrassed.  
Aragorn moved forward and for a brief moment, though it was totally alien to his 
character, I thought he was going to strike me.  Instead his arms circled me and he 
drew me close against his chest.

“You frightened me, my Sunlight.”  He murmured into my hair.  “I woke and saw 
you wielding that blade. . .”  Aragorn trailed off and squeezed me tightly.

“There are things we must discuss.”  I said reluctantly.  “The dwarves expect me 
to fall into a violent madness.  Perhaps they are right.  I didn’t know what I was 
doing just then.  I have had other. . .  lapses.  What if. . . what if I attacked you?  I 
have been only a hindrance to you here, my hope.”

“This is not a place for elves, it is true.  There must come a time, though, if only 
briefly when we are above ground between this place and Orthanc   When that 
time comes, it will be the work of a moment to use this benighted axe heart to free 
you.  Then no orc or dwarf will be a threat to you, Legolas.  You will be free and 
safe.”  Aragorn reassured.  All the while he held me against him, keeping me at as 
great a distance as the tiny room permitted from the metal shard.

My heart sank.  I had to make Aragorn understand the situation correctly.  “The 
dwarves’ hatred of me blinds them to everything.  Without me I believe you might 
make peace with them.  You might try, anyway.  At the least they will relax their 
vigilance and you may find yourself able to escape.  Besides, I am dangerous as I 
am now.  I don’t know what I will do next.  I feel my mind is drifting away.  
Might it not be better, my beloved Aragorn, not to expend effort in a lost cause.  
Think of it as a mercy, my love.  The dungeons of Isengard hold a particular terror 
for my kind.  Would you not grant me a gentler departure rather than screaming 
my soul out on the torturer’s table?”  I explained trying to sound as reasonable as I 
could.

I had been speaking all this into Aragorn’s chest but now he had pulled my head 
back so that I looked straight up into his eyes.  “You are not yourself, Legolas.  Be 
guided by me and leave these thoughts.  Do not concede to the enemy a victory 
before the game is played out. ”  Aragorn’s voice was cold and though I was 
chilled by it I felt I had appraised the situation correctly.  I was a liability.  
Whatever chance there was for escape was vastly reduced because of me.  My 
duty and my heart bade me do all I could to rectify this.

“I could have cut your throat as you slept and never known it.  Maybe next time I 
will.”  I argued, tension roughening my voice.  “I could not endure it if harm 
befell you through me.  My very sanity is suspect.  I can no longer be trusted.  
Ignoring it won’t make it go away, Aragorn.”

Aragorn shifted up onto his knees and took hold of my shoulders.  “Everyone 
experiences doubts, Legolas.  New challenges always lead to uncertainty.  
Knowing yourself less than perfect can be crippling but I need you too much to 
lose you to your own pride.”  His fingers dug into me and I could not have broken 
away from his gaze even had I tried.  “I know you are frightened and I know it is 
an awful risk to try and keep your mind focused when you know you might fail 
but that is what you have to do, Legolas.  Do you understand me, my Sunlight?”

I looked at Aragorn in an agony of indecision.  Was he right?  Was it only pride 
and an inflated sense of my own dignity that sent me seeking the cold comfort of 
steel before my enemies had raised their hands to me?  I did not know.  My 
thoughts, once so clear and lucid could be leading me astray and I might not even 
know it.  “I understand that I trust you, my hope.  I won’t speak of it again if that 
is what you want.”  I said finally, and my voice rang with a certainty that had long 
been missing.

With this announcement all the tension seemed to drain out of Aragorn.  Once 
again I found myself pressed gently but firmly against his chest.  Sighing softly, I 
rubbed my cheek over the lightly furred surface of Aragorn’s pectoral muscles.  I 
could hear his heart beating steadily beneath his rib cage.  The warmth of his 
naked chest seemed to reach out and envelope me.  I reached up and buried my 
hands in Aragorn’s hair.  For a moment I lost myself in the feel of the  silky 
tresses and warm skin.  Idly, I wondered how the hair on Aragorn’s head could 
feel so soft while the hair on his face was so rough and bristly. 

“Legolas, you know how much you mean to me, don’t you?  You know that I love 
you?”  Aragorn asked as he eased himself down until he was lying on his back 
with me resting on top of him.

“Mmm, yes.  Like a wolf loves mutton.”  I answered lightly as I moved 
provocatively against him.  I was in a mood to be reassured.  I needed to know 
that he wanted me with even a little of the frantic urgency I had for him.

“Like a drowning man loves the air, like a dwarf loves gold, like an elf loves the 
forest, like a man loves the best, the noblest part of his own soul.”  Aragorn’s 
voice managed to convey both gentle teasing and earnest sincerity.  He was far too 
good with words, my ranger.  I would have to silence him for my own protection.

Our moths came together.  Had I feared his words would undo me?  ‘How naive,’I 
thought as the seal of my lips was pierced by Aragorn’s demanding tongue.  I 
lapped delicately at Aragorn’s lips and greeted his invasion into my mouth with 
long adoring strokes of my own tongue.  This policy of appeasement, however, 
gained me no mercy as Aragorn carried his scorched earth campaign into the 
deepest recesses of my mouth.

Aragorn’s hands ran up and down my back, impatiently grasping for me through 
the folds and layers of my clothing.  Breathing heavily, we broke off kissing long 
enough for me to pull my shirt off and toss it into a corner.  Aragorn’s fingers 
were now dancing up and down my spine.  I lifted my shoulders up into his touch 
while I pressed my hips downward.  I had to squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bite 
my lip as the friction between my groin and Aragorn’s thigh sent lightening bolts 
of pleasure jolting through me.

All the anxiety and trepidation of the hours spent in the dark underground seemed 
to transform into a frantic, desperate need.  I was hungry for Aragorn.  All other 
needs and desires fell away as I clutched and grasped at my beloved ranger.  
Groaning a little Aragorn struggled to sit up without dislocating me.  I wrapped 
my legs around his waist.  I fidgeted a little, seeking some relief for my now rigid 
and aching shaft as it strained against the tight confines of my leggings.  I tasted 
the salt sweat that had begun to bead on Aragorn’s neck and forehead as I kissed 
and licked indiscriminately at any part of my beloved I could reach. 

It was not long before I felt the evidence of Aragorn’s own arousal poking 
insistently against the back of my thigh.  Shifting a little in his lap I started 
rocking gently.  Even through our clothing I could feel the molten steel of 
Aragorn’s erection pulsing against my buttocks.  Aragorn called out but the sound 
was lost, muffled against my shoulder.  I threw my head back and tangled my 
fingers in Aragprn’s hair.  I wanted to lie back, pulling him on top of me but he 
resisted.  Big, wet sucking kisses rained down upon my neck and the line of my 
jaw while Aragorn reached blindly behind him.  He retrieved my discarded shirt 
and struggled to spread out our abandoned clothing like a blanket against the cold 
stone floor before easing me down.  Though I had not thought of it I realized 
immediately how much happier I was going to be having something between me 
and the floor.  The soft linen not only insulated against the cold but it softened the 
pebbles and loose gravel that wanted to dig into my back.

Aragorn loomed over me.  He had placed a hand close on either side of my head 
and he was looking down at me with a gaze that I was certain could read the 
secrets of my soul.  When he looked at me like that it made me feel as though I 
were the most important person in the world, the only person in the world.  It was 
strangely humbling to feel so valuable, so valued.  A moment ago I was burning 
with untamable lust and now suddenly I felt demure almost shy.  I returned 
Aragorn’s gaze hoping that he would be able to see my love for him in my eyes.  
Then I lowered my lashes and turned my head to the side.  I kissed Aragorn’s 
wrist and the back of his hand with light, tender kisses being careful of the bruises 
and cuts which still adorned his hands.

Aragorn lowered his head until his lips hovered just above my ear.  “You are so 
beautiful, my Sunlight.  I love you so much.”  He punctuated his words with 
occasional flicks of his tongue.  His words sent tiny shivers through my body.  I 
nuzzled against his hand with increasing force.  Still murmuring words of love 
Aragorn nipped at my ear.  The pointed tips always seemed to intrigue him, 
though I feared he tended to see them as cute rather than appreciating their true 
majesty.

I still had my legs wrapped around Aragorn’s waist and now I tightened my hold 
to bring our hips together.  Abandoning my ear for the moment Aragorn lowered 
himself onto me.  He growled deep in his throat as his hands sought the waistband 
of my leggings.  I had to allow Aragorn to move away from me to let him, first 
remove my leggings then with my eager assistance he could remove his own 
trousers.  I almost sobbed as the cloth brushed over my painfully taut shaft.  Once 
freed from its cloth prison, however, Aragorn’s hand closed over my rigid flesh.  I 
thrust up into his hand every nerve singing.  Aragorn squeezed twice before 
letting his fingers wander down to caress my inner thighs and fondle my 
tightening balls.

“Aragorn!”  I moaned, not even trying to disguise the desperation in my voice.  I 
reached out to pull Aragorn’s hips towards me but my wrists were seized and 
pinned high above my head.  I shivered a little.  Aragorn now held both my wrist 
on the floor with one hand while the other hand roamed lazily over my chest.  I 
called his name again and he lightly pinched both my nipples sending excruciating 
pleasure radiating from the already tight buds.  I groaned unashamedly.  It was 
odd but I had been feeling helpless and trapped since first entering Moria but now 
with my arms pinned and my body shuddering and defenseless beneath Aragorn I 
felt free, safe and protected.  As soon as I had my breath back I whispered “I love 
you.”  Aragorn’s only answer was another fierce kiss.

“Make love to me, my hope.”  I said when the kiss ended.  At the same time I 
moved against him letting my body rub against his erection in invitation.

Aragorn released my wrists and brought both of his hands up to cradle my face. 
“Legolas, we have nothing to. . . to make things easier.  I don’t want to hurt you.”  
He finished, smoothing my hair away from my face.  I smiled to myself.  Elves 
were built for all of nature’s pleasures.  Men were more delicate than elves in that 
regard .  The fear of hurting me, however, was never far from Aragorn’s thoughts.  
It was this fear more than any other peculiarity of men in general or my man in 
particular that caused him sometimes to hold back from me.

“You are not going to hurt me, my love.”  I told him with confidence.  In fact, 
among elves there are many games where the play is sometimes intended to be 
painful.  Before I met Aragorn I had participated in some of these games.  I had 
played whichever role my partner asked of me without a real preference.  At the 
time I had not been particularly impressed but now I occasionally daydreamed 
with an exciting mixture of fear and longing about playing such games with 
Aragorn.  I recognized, however, that now was not the time to speak of such 
things.

“Are you certain?”  Aragorn asked his expression cautious, appraising.

“Yes, I’m very certain.”  I answered, starting to kiss my way around Aragorn’s 
face.  I saw the doubt fade from Aragorn’s eyes as I ran the inside of my knee 
along his ribs.  Delivering one final kiss to my lips, Aragorn knelt between my 
parted thighs.  He collected the pearly beads of liquid from the weeping head of 
my erection and then smeared the fluid along the cleft of my buttocks.  Nimble 
fingers milked more fluid from me which Aragorn used to slick the tightly 
muscled opening to my body.  A finger dipped shallowly into me spreading the 
moisture.  I sent my hips upward trying to impale myself onto him but the finger 
had already been removed.

Now Aragorn turned his attention to himself.  He brought his hand to his mouth 
and dragged his tongue along his palm.  He lubricated himself with saliva mixed 
with the tears of his own weeping shaft.  Then he positioned himself against me.  I 
felt a gentle nudge and in the next moment he was entering me.  I saw sweat break 
out on his forehead as he slowly pushed deeper and deeper, impossibly deep.  My 
breath came in ragged gasps. When Aragorn was completely buried within me he 
stopped moving.  My body screamed its fullness even as I throbbed with the effort 
of accommodating so great an invasion. 

Aragorn waited for my breathing to steady and then he started to move.  My hands 
opened and closed as if grasping for something just out of reach.  My heals 
skidded on the stone.  I moaned helplessly.  Time stopped when Aragorn struck 
the small bundle of nerves hidden deep within me.  Pleasure tore through me 
drowning out all other awareness.  Thrusting harder now, Aragorn repeatedly 
struck the same place.  I brought my hips up to meet Aragorn and we crashed 
together with ever increasing force.  My neglected erection bounced between our 
bellies until Aragorn caught it and started moving his fist up and down.  It was too 
much.  I shouted Aragorn’s name as my eyes went glassy.  Hot semen geysered 
onto my belly and my muscles contracted hugging Aragorn within me.

An almost animal cry rent the air but Aragorn continued to delve within me.  
Twice more, three times, then I felt him explode within me, branding me as his.  
Carefully Aragorn eased himself down so that we were lying chest to chest, hip to 
hip.  Again I thought how good it was to have his weight on top of me, anchoring 
me, protecting me.  Aftershocks of pleasure still rocked through me but mostly I 
existed in a fog of exhaustion and contentment.  I used what seemed the very last 
of my strength to lift my arms up around Aragorn to hold him even closer.
*
Aragorn and I lay together for long moments.  I listened to his breathing as my 
mind floated contentedly.  For the first time my thoughts drifted to the remaining 
fellowship.  I hoped fervently that they had reached the safety of the Wood by 
now.  I must have been indeed befuddled to have lasted until now without sparing 
a thought for the brave hobbits and their two remaining guardians.  The poison of 
these halls must have run deeper than I was able to perceive while under its 
influence.  My face heated as I remembered the depth of my recent despair.  Had I 
honestly been close to suicide?  Had I really convinced myself that such a course 
was for the best?  I would have to be more careful of my mood in future.

As I pondered the insidious influence of Moria Aragorn stirred.  He turned onto 
his side, his body slipping from mine in the process.  I could not help but mark the 
loss and I claimed a long sweet kiss as partial compensation.  

“Are all elves of Mirkwood so wonderful or is it only you?”  Aragorn asked, 
smiling.

“Only me.”  I answered seriously.  “Are all rangers so wonderful or is it only 
you?”  I rejoined.

Aragorn smiled again but all he said was “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  I responded, stealing one last kiss before sitting up.  
Unfortunately, good sense dictated that we dress and find what rest we could 
before the march resumed.  Aragorn scraped at the result of my passion which had 
left a stickiness on his stomach.  He removed what he could without the aid of 
water then pulled on his trousers. 

I regarded my own stomach with distaste.  It was at least as sticky as Aragorn’s 
had been.  In truth, I was thoroughly disheveled from head to foot.  “I would give 
a great deal to have a bath right now.”  I remarked, doing my best to smooth the 
tangles in my hair.

“When it is scarce water should be used for drinking rather than bathing.”  
Aragorn said pulling on his boots.

I considered for a moment.  “Given a choice I would rather have a bath.”  I 
decided.  Aragorn only laughed but I was reminded that my ranger had gone a 
long time without food or drink.  Thinking this, I pulled on my leggings valiantly 
ignoring the feeling of dirt clinging to me.

“Will you help me with this, please?”  Aragorn asked holding up the leather cord 
which yesterday had bound my wrists and the broken axe blade he had picked up 
when he collapsed in the tunnel.  I tied the axe blade securely to the inside of 
Aragorn’s right forearm.  The left was still too damaged.  When Aragorn put on 
his shirt the axe blade was completely hidden but even with his hands tied 
together Aragorn would be able free the blade by sawing through the cord.  It 
would have been easier for me to carry the blade since I was unlikely to lose 
sensation in my fingers even when my wrists had been tied together for a long 
time but I could not bring myself to question Aragorn’s decision to keep the blade 
away from me.

As I pulled my shirt over my head I thought I heard a low rumbling.  I looked to 
Aragorn for confirmation.  I had been imagining a great deal as of late.  But 
Aragorn seemed to have heard it too.  We had heard nothing from the dwarves 
since the oak door had been closed and we assumed that the room was virtually 
sound proof.  I was almost ready to dismiss the sound as inconsequential when I 
heard it again only this time it was louder and accompanied by a hail of gravel.  

My eyes widened in fear.  This was the stuff of nightmares.  Aragorn had made 
his way to the corner closest to the oak door and he was gesturing for me to come 
to him.  Panicked, I made my way over.  There was yet another rumble.  The room 
seemed to be filling with dust.  I had been about to put on my tunic but now I used 
the cloth to cover my mouth and nose.  Aragorn pushed me as close to the wall as 
possible as he hunkered down in the corner partially shielding me with his body.  
For a long moment we crouched there, silent, ears straining.  Then there was a 
third rumble and the little light there had been in the room was lost to sight.
*
I told myself that it was only the thick dust that must have covered the luminous 
stones and crowded out the light.  The room was still more or less intact or so the 
fact that Aragorn and I still lived led me to believe.  So far the roof and walls were 
holding up.  Nothing worse than gravel had rained down from above but I felt the 
wall vibrate as I huddled between it and Aragorn.  But even if the world did not 
fall on top of us the air was becoming too thick to breathe.  

All of a sudden I saw a light.   I could not detect its source the dense atmosphere 
diffused the illumination into a pale glow.  With one hand against the wall and the 
other clutching Aragorn I made my way toward the faint gleaming.

“Where are we-” Aragorn broke off in a coughing fit.

For a moment I feared that I was imagining the light since Aragorn did not seem 
aware of it.  Then I realized that the ranger must have closed his eyes against the 
irritants in the atmosphere.  Tears streamed from my own eyes, carrying away all 
the pulverized rock that was trying to accumulate but Aragorn’s body would not 
respond as efficiently as my own.  So he would have to preserve his vision by 
keeping his eyes closed.  “Out.  The door is open.”  I said, still moving forward.  
As I spoke I felt my lungs fill with the thick dirty air.  I coughed once, ridding 
myself of the pollution.

Aragorn and I emerged from our prison into chaos.  In the wider area of the tunnel 
the air was not so heavy with debris so I could clearly see the damage the cavern 
had undergone.  There was a large fissure in the ceiling which stretched several 
yards.  I was certain that the crack had not been there before.  There were piles of 
rock where sections of wall had collapsed.  Torches had been broken from their 
wall sconces and to my horror I saw that some of the flames had encountered 
flammable ore, something like coal perhaps.  Black smoke billowed from these 
fires even as dwarves rushed about trying to extinguish the flames.  I saw Dafyd 
standing in the middle of the tunnel directing the dwarves’ frantic efforts.  His 
eyes flickered in our direction and I followed his gaze to a dwarf who was 
standing next to the opened door and was probably responsible for our release.  
The Dwarf leader nodded as though acknowledging the satisfactory progress of a 
necessary task.  Before Dafyd could turn his attention from us, however, I caught 
his eye.  Our gazes locked and I felt the same smothering hatred as I always did in 
his presence.  With deliberate contempt the dwarf captain spat on the ground 
before turning his back to me to continue organizing his comrades. 

For about fifty yards in both directions dwarves were hard at work.  Some labored 
to contain the fires.  Others had divided into pairs where one dwarf would press 
his ear to the floor or wall and the second dwarf would perform a series of gentle 
taps with a small hammer.  Still others were moving some of the larger stones 
which had broken free to the end of the tunnel which appeared to have sustained 
the most damage.  I could not tell what the five dwarves who were kneeling over 
several packs were doing but I detected the foul odor of sulfur and brimstone 
coming from them. The remaining dwarves occupied themselves by retrieving 
timber from a storeroom opposite to the one where Aragorn and I had been 
confined.  Even as I noticed this a dwarf began removing the doors to the two 
rooms from their hinges and chopping the heavy oak into beams.

 I took all of this in in a matter of seconds while Aragorn rubbed at his eyes and 
the dwarf who had freed us looked uncomfortable and gathered his breath to 
speak.  “All right, listen.  This tunnel is collapsing-” 

As if to prove his veracity the world shook once more.  The earth bucked beneath 
our feet and the walls and ceiling trembled in sympathy.  Several of the dwarves 
near the far end of the cavern fell to the ground.  Stone crumbled from the ceiling 
in a deadly cascade.  Stillness overtook the dwarves and those who had remained 
on their feet wore alert, wary expressions as though they were listening for 
something.

When the tremors finally passed the dwarf returned his attention to me and 
Aragorn: “We are beneath several tons of solid rock all of which is trying to fall 
down on top of us.  If we do not all work together we will certainly all die 
together.  Do you understand?”

“What do you want us to do?”  Aragorn replied.  We had no choice but to 
cooperate.  Though the dwarves were far too distracted to stop us if we chose to 
run it would do us no good to escape from the dwarves only to be buried in a cave-
in.  Even if we managed to escape the vengeance of the earth I doubted we could 
find our way out of the interminably winding tunnels.

Explaining as he went the dwarf led us away from the section of tunnel with the 
most damage.  Apparently the pairs of dwarves were locating the stones’ natural 
lines of cleavage so they could predict where support was needed and where the 
cavern was likely to hold steady.  I still did not understand what the group 
hovering around the open packs were doing but our task was to buttress the least 
stable portions of the wall and ceiling.  Working together we would prop the 
wooden supports where they were most needed.  Aragorn and I had nearly double 
the reach of the dwarves which helped compensate for the clumsiness of our 
attempts to move quickly in a space that did not permit us to stand fully 
upright.  Beside us teams of dwarves stacked boulders to further reinforce 
the tunnel.  I could not help but notice how the rocks seemed to fit 
together almost seamlessly.  A few little taps with a hammer and a stone 
became an almost perfect with the rest of the support structure.

While the dwarves searched for the next place in need of repair I looked 
around surveying the situation.  Dafyd was still directing the activity with 
calm authority.  The flames were almost contained.  As my glance 
wandered I wondered aloud why none of the repair effort was being 
directed at the obviously weak and obviously unstable portion of the 
tunnel.  The dwarf closest to me murmured something that sounded like 
‘daft elf.’  I was a bit offended.  After all, groping about in a deep, dark 
cave was hardly intuitive for an elf.  Even so, I was grateful not to have 
been  ignored completely.  I considered that I was making progress.

Aragorn and I had just been shown where to position another support 
column.  Aragorn had begun wrestling the log into place when I heard an 
ominous crack followed by a loud thud and a startled cry.  Without 
thinking I rushed toward the sound.  I discovered a dwarf pinned beneath 
several smoldering beams.  He must have been dousing the few remaining 
flames when the beam which was half burned away must have snapped 
causing an avalanche of burning logs. 

Dafyd had been the only other to respond.  Either the sound had been 
drowned out in the tumult and constant commotion of the frantic work or 
no one else could afford to divert their attention from the task at hand.  
Cursing, the dwarf leader rushed to his companion’s side.  In a moment, 
Dafyd had levered the logs up off of the entangled dwarf.  Acting purely 
on instinct I darted forward, seized the trapped dwarf by the shoulders and 
pulled him from beneath the burning pile.  As soon as the dwarf was clear 
Dafyd released the log.  Glowing embers had landed on the rescued 
dwarf’s beard and shirt and he swatted at them wildly.  As soon as he was 
no longer in danger of catching fire the dwarf rose a little unsteadily.

“Thanks.”  The dwarf said and though he faced Dafyd his eyes 
occasionally darted in my direction.  Dafyd clapped him on the back and 
the dwarf disappeared down the cavern corridor to the next task.

When he was gone Dafyd regarded me for a moment with an unreadable 
expression.  I met his gaze proudly.  Just as Dafyd turned away from me I 
called out to him: “Be careful, master dwarf.  If you should accidentally 
discover that I am a decent person then all your animosity will become 
hypocritical.”  The dwarf captain’s shoulders stiffened slightly but he 
continued on without responding.  For the first time in this unholy place I 
felt like laughing.

“Where were you?”  Aragorn asked when I returned to him.  “I looked 
away for just a moment and you were gone.”

“One of the. . .” The word ‘clumsy’ had been on the tip of my tongue but I 
found that I no longer truly wished to say it.  “. . .dwarves fell beneath a 
burning pile of lumber.  Dafyd and I rescued him.”

Aragorn’s eyebrows rose but he made no other comment and together we 
returned to work.
*
Time flew by.  I hardly noticed the fleeting minutes.  Lifting, pushing, 
hammering consumed my consciousness.  Finally, there were no more 
beams.  Dafyd began herding everyone toward the less damaged portion of 
the cave where the dwarves hunkered down behind rocks or pressed 
themselves against the wall.  I caught Aragorn’s eye and sent him a 
questioning glance.  He shrugged, understanding this peculiar behavior no 
more than I.  In the name of caution, however, we both sought something 
to shelter behind.

As I crouched next to Aragorn wondering what was to come next Dafyd 
shouted an order.  In response the dwarves who had been working with the 
reeking packs lowered a flame to something, ropes perhaps, on the ground.  
I watched in fascination as the little blaze raced down the tunnel.  When 
the fire reached the section of cave that was most unstable, I heard a pop 
followed quickly by a thunderous boom which reverberated violently in 
my head.  The explosion had brought down part of the tunnel.  I thought I 
cried out but I could hear nothing save the echoes of the blast.  I saw 
rather than heard Dafyd repeat the command and another trail of flame 
sped toward the smoking ruins.  After that the dwarves set off only one 
more explosion.

The tunnel was gone.  There was only rock and stone where before there 
had been a passageway.  The dwarves emerged from wherever they has 
sought safety and once again began hammering and listening to the rock.  
After the first detonation I had put my hands protectively over my ears but 
my head still rang.  All I could hear was the reverberation of the 
explosion.  While the dwarves worked I tried to concentrate upon willing 
myself to hear properly.

“What are they playing at?”  I asked Aragorn when I thought I was 
beginning to hear some of the sounds around me once more.  “Isn’t the 
whole object to stop the cave from coming down around us?”  My voice 
sounded odd and slightly muffled to my still recovering ears.

Aragorn who had been watching the dwarves’ activities as closely as I 
shook his head to indicate uncertainty.  “I don’t know.”  Aragorn’s voice 
sounded flattened.  I could not hear any of the richness or the nuances that 
I had become accustomed to hearing.  The fact that I could hear him at all 
was a great reassurance, however and I allowed myself to hope that in a 
little time I would regain my normal sensitivity to sound.  “Once I spent 
some time in the prairies of the south east.  Occasionally, fires would rage 
through the grasslands destroying everything.  People did not have the 
means to extinguish the flames so they would start small fires and burn all 
the fuel in a circle around the big fire.  Thus, they could contain the blaze.  
It’s possible the same principal applies here.”  Aragorn speculated.  With 
each word I seemed to hear more, better.  I closed my eyes briefly in 
relief.

I suspected Aragorn was correct but I was a little alarmed that the same 
idea had not occurred to me.  Was my mind still being slowed by the 
influence of fear and constant darkness or was it merely that elves never 
had to worry about such things as fire or the ground opening up to 
swallow us?  Nature never betrayed the elves.  Perhaps I had simply been 
confused by the detonations.  I had thought only the Istari could cause 
explosions.  I must remember to tell my father about this ability for it 
would be a great advantage to the dwarves if used in battle.

“It will hold now.  Sound as a drum.”  One of the dwarves announced after 
all of the hammering and listening.

Dafyd nodded and though he tried to hide it behind a mask of impassivity 
I could tell he was relieved.  The dwarf leader gestured at a few of his 
subordinates and once again I found my arms wrenched behind me.  I 
watched Aragorn undergo the same process.  If any dwarfish fingers made 
accidental contact with the blade tied to Aragorn’s forearm no one seemed 
to notice.

“You are all certainly welcome.”  I said as once again a length of rope was 
looped around my neck.  I could not resist the sarcastic comment though it 
did not necessarily foster the image of aloof dignity which I wanted to 
project.  I had not truly expected anything different but I still found myself 
overwhelmed with the churlishness of it all.  As usual the dwarves 
pretended not to hear.

“Godsdamned orcs!  You told them, Dafyd.  You told them specifically 
not to march in lock step through the halls of these mines and to never 
allow more than a company through at a time.  We could have bee killed 
because those whore sons can’t follow simple directions or understand 
concepts that would be crystal clear to a babe in his mother’s arms.”  One 
of the dwarfs who had helped rig the explosives declaimed.  There was a 
chorus of muttered agreement.  Now that the danger was passed the 
recriminations were beginning

Aragorn’s eyebrows rose at the accusation that the orcs who were 
traveling through the tunnel parallel to ours were responsible for our 
predicament.  I was not surprised.  The dwarves had made an alliance with 
the forces of evil.  What had they expected?  There was an element of 
poetic justice to the dwarves’ being nearly destroyed by the carelessness 
of their own thick-skulled, thoroughly malicious allies.

“Leave off.”  Dafyd responded.  “If we had had the time to construct these 
passages properly then a battalion of cave trolls could have marched 
through and we would not have felt the faintest quiver.”

“We would have had the time to do it properly if those gods abandoned 
creatures had not been so hell bent on us finishing the larger tunnel.”  A 
second dwarf complained.  Again there were murmurs of agreement.

“Enough!”  Dafyd bellowed.  “This was just bad luck coupled with our 
own carelessness.”  While he spoke Dafyd surveyed the group watching 
for any signs of rebelliousness.  Seeing none he seemed to relax a bit.

“So what now?”  The question was sullen but there was no challenge in it.

Dafyd rolled his eyes at what he must have considered a foolish question.  
“We retrace our steps to the last access point and then continue over land.  
What did you think?”

My heart leapt with joy.  Elation surged through me.  I could not govern 
my own excitement.  I had been so disoriented that I honestly could not 
have said if the collapsed tunnel blocked our advance or our retreat.  I had 
not dared to hope that we would regain the surface until many days had 
passed.  A little to my own surprise I began to laugh.  It was all so perfect, 
so inevitable.  The dwarves were reaping what they had sewn and as a 
result Aragorn and I would soon be free, for nothing could keep me 
prisoner if I could breathe the fresh clean air and feel the caress of the sun 
and rain.  ‘Soon!  Soon all would be well.’  I thought as I shook with 
exultant laughter.

Dafyd had begun organizing the baggage for the retreat but a few of the 
other dwarves watched my jubilation with growing anger.  The scowls on 
their faces spurred me to even higher peaks of triumph and stronger gales 
of laughter.  Aragorn was right beside me. Almost dizzy with euphoria I 
swayed closer.  I was eager to share my amusement with my beloved yet 
Aragorn did not seem amused.  The somber ranger shook his head slightly, 
silently urging me to hush.  For his sake I tried valiantly to suppress my 
mirth.  A part of me recognized that it was inappropriate even dangerous 
but the harder I tried to compose my features the more I was overcome 
with helpless  merriment.  

One of the dwarves, I really had to make more of an effort to distinguish 
the small-eyed, big-bearded creatures from one another, approached me 
glowering.  He was stroking the handle of his heavy battle hammer in a 
way I’m sure he intended to be intimidating.  For all that I had been 
genuinely terrified in this black pit I was certainly not afraid of any 
conventional attack.  Fresh laughter bubbled from within me.  Darkness or 
no darkness I was not going to be bullied by any threat of physical 
violence.  Growling the dwarf raised his hammer.  My expression dared 
him to do his worst.  I preferred this open confrontation to Dafyd’s 
deliberate and humiliating disregard.

The hammer swung and I braced myself for its impact.  As the hammer 
arced downward, however, I could see that I was not the dwarf’s target.  
At the same moment I realized that the dwarf, in an act of perceptive 
cruelty, meant to strike at Aragorn, my beloved committed himself to a 
lunge designed to remove me from harm’s way.  With a sickening thud the 
hammer connected with flesh and bone.  If Aragorn had remained still 
there would have been less of an impact but his attempt to protect me 
caused him to jump into the dwarf’s swing.  

Aragorn cried out as the hammer drove into his knee and lower thigh.  His 
leg buckled beneath him and my beloved dropped like a stone to the floor.  
The dwarf, slightly alarmed at causing more damage than he intended, 
took a quick step backward.  It was only that reflex that saved the dwarf 
from me as I struck at him with kicks and oaths.  In no time dwarves had 
streamed between me and Aragorn’s attacker bringing me, still flailing 
wildly, to the ground.  I wanted to struggle, spit, bite, kick, anything if 
only I could get at the dwarf but it was useless.  I was being strangled by 
the rope around my neck and dwarves had pinned my legs, torso and 
shoulders.  When my vision began to grow fuzzy I finally quieted and only 
then was I allowed to breathe.

Dafyd came wading through the mess.  He seized the attacking dwarf by 
the scruff of the neck and spun him around to face his enraged leader.  “If 
he can’t walk I’ll see to it you help carry him every step of the way.”  
Dafyd growled as he shook the dwarf before him.

“I would have hardly touched him if he hadn’t jumped right into me.  It’s 
not like I was trying to cripple him.  I mean, honestly, what sort of fool 
moves *toward* an enraged warrior?”  The dwarf with the hammer 
explained not quite meeting the wrathful gaze of his captain.

“And what, pray, were you trying to do?”  Dafyd ground out between 
clenched teeth ignoring the last question.

“The elf was too damn smug.  I wanted to make the ill-omened creature 
shut up.  We should have just killed him as soon as his companions were 
out of sight.  He has been nothing but a curse.”  The dwarf said beginning 
to defend himself with more conviction.

“And because you think the elf is a nuisance you think you can take a 
swing at another prisoner.  Listen to me carefully, Vorik, because I 
guarantee if you forget this it will be the very last thing you ever do: We. 
Don’t. Mistreat. Prisoners.”  Dafyd’s indignation was genuine but it made 
no sense.  Did the dwarf truly believe that there was any real difference 
between the torturer and the one who supplied the torturer with victims?  
Would Dafyd have cared if I had been the one assualted?  Didn’t the 
treatment we had already endured at the hands of the dwarves count as 
abuse?  Though these questions darted across my mind I felt no desire to 
voice them.  The logical consistency of a dwarf’s philosophy didn’t matter 
now.  All my thoughts were for Aragorn.

Dafyd waited until the dwarf with the hammer, Vorik, had nodded 
obediently if grudgingly then he shoved the other dwarf away and looked 
at Aragorn.  With the aid of several dwarves Aragorn was sitting up with 
the injured leg extended.  The ranger’s hands were still tied behind him 
and his eyes were closed.  “Well?”  Dafyd asked a little uncertainly.

“I’ll need someone to lean on but I think I can walk.”  Aragorn’s voice 
came out thin and strained.  He had not opened his eyes to reply to the 
dwarf and I guessed he was struggling to keep the pain from mastering 
him.

Dafyd gestured to the dwarves surrounding Aragorn and together they 
helped Aragorn as upright as he could be in the low ceilinged tunnel.  
Only when he was standing with a dwarf supporting him at each elbow did 
Aragorn open his eyes to regard the dwarf captain.  For a moment I 
thought Dafyd would say something but he turned away without a word 
and signaled the advance.  The least he could have done would have been 
to untie the ranger’s hands but the dwarf leader either didn’t think of it or 
perhaps he still saw Aragorn as potentially dangerous.   Letting the 
dwarves at his sides carry as much of his weight as possible Aragorn 
began a slow awkward movement that was as much a hop as a walk. 

“I’m so sorry.”  I whispered.  The words hardly began to convey what I 
felt but they were the first ones that came to me.  As I spoke the rope 
around my neck was jerked downward in a demand for silence.  Even so, 
it seemed to me that the leash holder’s heart wasn’t really in it.

“Not your fault.”  Came Aragorn’s predictable reply but of course it was 
my fault.
*
Light!  Precious, beloved light!  The midmorning sun shone down upon 
me for the first time since the fellowship had arrived at the gates to Moria 
all those weeks ago.  I threw my head back letting my hair stream out 
behind me in the fresh air.  I breathed in deeply tasting the unique wonder 
of the day.  Gods, the world was beautiful.  After so much darkness the 
sun was dazzling.  After the deathly silence of the underground the 
chirping of birds, the murmuring of the wind through the trees and the 
quiet rustle of small animals searching out seeds and nuts was 
intoxicating.

The last segment of our journey had been spent in subdued silence.  In the 
aftermath of the frantic struggle to escape the tunnel collapse the dwarves 
seemed daunted by the prospect of trekking over what was likely to be 
hostile territory.  Aragorn seemed to have moved slower with each step 
and my heart broke every time I saw my beloved wince at the pain.  We 
had been retracing our steps for what I guessed was a little more than an 
hour before the group halted and a boulder was rolled aside revealing a 
steep stair.  I do not know how Aragorn managed the ascent but in the end 
we emerged together from out of the underworld.

“I had forgotten how lovely you are.”  Aragorn said softly as I took in the 
marvel of the sky.

I smiled at the compliment.  How typical of Aragorn to praise my 
appearance when I was probably dirtier than any other elf in the history of 
middle earth.  The smile died on my lips, however, as I looked at Aragorn 
in the full light of day.  He had always been thin but in the depths of Moria 
he had grown gaunt.  Dust and sweat matted his hair.  His usually straight 
posture had grown a little slumped with the long hours of walking in a half 
crouch and much of his shirt was stiff with dried blood.  Strangely, 
though, even in such a state he was inexpressibly beautiful to me and I had 
to turn my head for fear of once more losing hold of my emotions.

As soon as we were free of the cave the dwarves tied a rope around my 
ankles so that I could only take small steps.  They covered the narrow 
opening which had led us to freedom with loose earth, twigs and other 
debris.  If the dwarves had marked the place in any way I could not see it.  
It didn’t matter though.  We had emerged just north of Fanghorn and I had 
already memorized this location for I intended to return preferably, with a 
stalwart band of companions. 

We traveled east till mid-day.  The dwarves set about preparing the noon 
meal without much enthusiasm.  Trying to look weary and hopeless I 
moved nearer to Aragorn.  I judged the time aright to part company with 
these dwarves.

“Lorien is closer than I would have believed possible.  If we make good 
time we shall arrive before nightfall.”  I whispered wriggling even closer 
to the ranger so that when Aragorn had sawn through his own bonds he 
could begin on mine.  In truth, with Aragorn’s injury we might not reach 
Lorien until some time tomorrow but my spirits were high.

“Legolas, I am not sure that I will be able to go with you.  I cannot walk 
on my own there is no way I will be able to run.”  Aragorn murmured as I 
felt him begin working on the cords around my wrists.

“Well then, it will do no harm to wait until tomorrow morning when the 
injury has had time to get a little better.”  I assured my ranger.  I was a 
somewhat disappointed for the urge to run had been building within me 
for a long time but there was no point in taking foolish risks.

“It doesn’t work that way, Legolas.  This injury will not get better.”  
Aragorn said but then he added quickly when he saw my expression: “At 
least it will not get better without proper tending and a great deal of rest.”

I thought carefully: On my own I could reach Lorien quickly indeed.  How 
long would it take to muster a company and return to rescue Aragorn?  I 
did not wish to leave him yet that might be the only way.  But what if 
something were to happen to him while I was gone?  Could I take such a 
risk?  As I considered the situation, the ropes binding my wrists fell to the 
ground and I took the axe blade from Aragorn and maneuvered around so 
that I could sever the rope around my ankles.  

“I will not abandon you, my hope.  We will go together.  I will help you.”  
I decided.

“It is not going to work.  I can hardly stand on my own if you help me 
neither one of us will get far.  Your best chance is to go now.  My best 
chance is for you to bring aid from the Lady of the Wood.”

“But-”

“Damn it, do you think it pleases me to be helpless?”  There was a sharp 
anger in Aragorn’s voice that verged on bitterness but I knew that it was 
all directed at himself.  “Even with your help, I simply cannot make it to 
Lorien.”  The anger had gone from him now and he spoke gently, almost 
pleadingly.

I was free of the ropes.  The dwarves were intent on the food before them.  
There was a copse of small trees within easy sprinting distance.  There 
would never be a better time.  I did not dare look at Aragorn.  If I saw his 
face then I knew there would be no logic strong enough to compel me to 
leave him.  I wanted to embrace him, hold him.  I wanted the fresh 
memory of his touch to spur me on but then I would have had to admit the 
possibility that we might not see each other again.  We would be together 
again soon we had no reason to say farewell.  “I will return with an army.  
I swear it.”

I heard the first shout of alarm after I had taken less than a dozen steps.  
For a while I heard the heavy tread of several pursuers but they quickly 
grew faint.  My feet hardly seemed to touch the ground.  I would reach the 
home of the Giladriam long before sunset.
*
The sun was westering.  My heart beat was fast but steady.  I could keep 
up this pace as long as necessary.  As I ran swiftly north I saw that the 
foothills were gradually flattening out and the trees were becoming dense.  
Surely, it could not be much further.  Suddenly, an arrow flew by coming 
within inches of my head.  I came to an abrupt halt, all my senses alert.

“Who enters the domain of the Lady of the Wood in such unseemly 
haste?”  The question had come from directly behind me and I spun 
around.

“Haldir!”  I exclaimed.  I had finally reached the outskirts of Lorien.

“Welcome, Legolas.  We have been expecting you.  We took in a few 
strays yesterday who claimed to belong to you.  You have been 
associating with rather an odd mix.”  Haldir announced as he led me into 
the forest.  The fellowship had arrived safely, then.  Relief flooded 
through me.  I had not known until Haldir had spoken how worried I had 
been about my companions.

“Odd indeed but noble and courageous also.”  I said smiling a little.  “But 
Haldir I have news of the utmost urgency.  Did my companions tell you of 
our adventures in Moria?”  I asked.  Time spent on explanations was time 
wasted.

“They told me a little.  How very unpleasant for you.  All those dwarves.  
I’m surprised it took you so long to escape their company.”  Haldir 
crinkled his nose in disgust.

I was a little put off by something in Haldir’s tone.  He was being 
altogether too flippant.  “The dwarves are powerful in their own domain.  
We had no hope of challenging them until a chance occurrence forced 
them from their caves.  Even so, Isuldor’s heir remains a prisoner.  We 
must devote every effort to his rescue and quickly.”  I explained hurriedly.  
Though I rarely thought of Aragorn in terms of his August lineage I hoped 
the mention of Isuldor would impress the guardian of Lorien with the 
grave seriousness of the situation.

Before Haldir could answer a shout rang through the air.  “Legolas!”  I 
turned and saw four hobbits bearing down upon me.  Smiling I dropped to 
one knee to receive the embrace of my small friends.  Behind the hobbits, 
moving somewhat more sedately but still quickly strode Boromir.  The 
man greeted me courteously but his gaze wandered around in search of 
something, someone else.

“We were so worried.  We almost couldn’t eat.  We knew that really 
everything would turn out all right but it was still scary.”  Pippin’s excited 
chatter filled the air but now everyone was looking about.

Boromir was the one who finally gave voice to the question.  “Where is 
Aragorn?”

“They still have him.  We are planning a rescue even now.”  I felt a 
renewed surge of guilt as I watched the reactions.  Smiles faded to be 
replaced once more with worry and concern.  Frodo looked ill and Sam 
had to make him sit down.

“Count me in.”  The man of Gondor announced.  I appreciated the 
sentiment but I was a little worried the soldier might slow us down.

“Perhaps you should stay with the hobbits.”  I replied trying to be 
diplomatic.  

“Why don’t you stay with the hobbits?” Boromir answered with a look of 
determination and the air of one whose patience has been pressed too far.

“We are safe here.  No one needs to stay to look after us.  It’s more 
important that we get Aragorn back.”  Frodo put in looking from me to 
Boromir and back again.

“Calm down, young ones.  So much excitement.  No one is going 
anywhere” Haldir interjected.

At my look of incredulity, Haldir continued.  “At least not until the lady 
has given her permission and right now she is in seclusion.  When she has 
finished with her mirror and other magics she may approve some sort of 
rescue plan but until then I can’t have people coming and going as they 
please.  You should be grateful that I so far exceeded my authority as to 
grant admission to you.”  Haldir said indicating Boromir and the hobbits.

Boromir was looking daggers at Haldir and tears had started in Merry’s 
eyes.  Something was very wrong here.  Then, I realized what it was.  My 
stomach felt as though it had turned to stone as I turned to face the 
guardian of Lothlorien.  “Haldir, where is Gimli?”

Haldir raised an eyebrow in delicate inquiry.  In exasperation I turned 
from the elf to my companions.  Merry was crying in earnest now, 
sniffling and scrubbing at his face with his sleeve.  Boromir could not 
meet my eyes.  I felt that this silence must be worse than whatever news 
there was.  I was moments from shaking the answers from those around 
me.

In the end it was Pippin who answered me.  “They took him away.  We 
wanted to stop them.  Boromir tried.  He was ready to turn around and 
leave but then they said nobody could leave and Merry’s arm was still 
bleeding.  In the end, Gimli said it was best for him just to go with them 
and that it could all be sorted out later.  Still, we could have fought, maybe 
we should have.  We just didn’t know what to do.  Now, they won’t let us 
see him and they start ignoring us whenever we ask questions about him.”  
Guilt lay heavy on every word the little one spoke.  I could understand.  
First, Boromir and the hobbits had left me and Aragorn in the hands of 
dwarves and then they had left Gimli in the hands of elves.  The fact that 
they had honestly had no choice would have made no difference to either 
man or hobbits.

Guilt surged within me also.  Gimli, whatever his faults- and these seemed 
to be less each time I thought upon them, was a member of the fellowship 
of the ring.  He should have been made welcome by all those who opposed 
the Enemy.  It grieved me that my own kind had not done so.  Before I 
could voice my thought, however, Haldir spoke again: “Oh, the dwarf.  
Why didn’t you say so?  There was a bit of bother about that in the 
beginning.  These younger races are all rashness and sentimentality.”  
Haldir said looking pointedly first at Boromir and then the hobbits.  “But 
you need have no fear, Legolas.  We of the Galadriam follow the example 
of Mirkwood in such matters.”

“What have you done with Gimli?”  I asked, trying very hard to hold onto 
my temper.

“I thought I just told you.  We have taken him prisoner so that he may 
work no more harm upon the elves or our purposes.  We have done just as 
your father did to his.  Though, in Lorien we have yet to lose a prisoner to 
escape.”  Haldir said, adding the last with a slight upturn of his lips.

I had to stop and think.  Everyone had started talking in circles.  What did 
Gimli’s father or mine have to do with anything?  Then I knew.  Why had 
I not made the connection earlier?  I had grown increasingly uninterested 
in Thranduil’s affairs, especially as my interest in a certain ranger had 
grown.  Even so, how could I have forgotten my father’s attempts to raise 
money by capturing and ransoming any dwarf-lord who ventured too 
near?  Had not the most famous of these dwarf-lords been a certain Gloin 
of the Lonely Mountain who had escaped Mirkwood’s dungeons in the 
company of a certain hobbit?  Gimli had never mentioned the injustice 
done to his father by mine nor had he mentioned the fact that Gloin had 
essentially left Thranduil looking the fool.

As my mind raced, I saw the expression of the ringbearer change.  His 
thoughts must have followed mine to the same conclusion.  He now 
looked at me with hurt and betrayal brimming in his eyes.  Would Frodo 
believe that I harbored no secret animosity toward Gimli on my father’s 
account?  Would he believe I had simply not made the connection?  It 
seemed incredible even to me.  Sam who always took his cues from his 
master was now gazing at me with hostility though I doubted he knew 
exactly why Frodo’s opinion of me had changed so suddenly.  Merry and 
Pippin looked confused and a little scared.  The hobbit cousins had drifted 
away from me and closer to Boromir without seeming to be aware of it 
and my heart sank at the lack of trust this seemed to indicate. Boromir, 
himself, was almost vibrating with energy.  He perceived a tangle he 
neither understood nor desired to understand.  All his ambition was for the 
liberation of his companions.  I felt that at any moment he was going to 
start hacking at anything he saw as an obstacle.  I had to intervene before 
he started with Haldir.

“Haldir, Gimli is our companion. . . and friend.   He was appointed to this 
quest by Lord Elrond.  He must be released immediately.”  I said, trying to 
sound conciliatory, though the blood burned in my cheeks.

“My dear Legolas, you have been too long in the dark that you would 
name a dwarf a friend.  I suggest you take some rest.  Leave your troubles 
to the Lady’s wisdom.  Lord Half-Elfin, no doubt, possesses great 
knowledge but his methods have always struck the more traditional among 
us as a bit. . . perverse.”  The last word had very nearly been pronounced 
‘perverted’.  

“I am a friend and kinsman here.  Has my word so little weight among my 
own people?  I tell you, you do a grave wrong to keep Gimli captive 
against his will.  As you also do great wrong to delay the rescue of 
Aragorn by so much as a moment.”  I added, for I had never forgotten 
throughout all this awful conversation my beloved’s need.

“I am sorry you think so.”  Haldir responded stonily.

“I demand to see the Lady Galadriel.”  I had been acquainted with Haldir 
for decades.  In all that time I had never so much as dreamt at the depths 
of stubborn idiocy that the elf would be capable of demonstrating.

“No, she is not now available to grant an audience.”

“I have not the time to wait upon ceremony, Haldir.  I will see her now.”  I 
announced with all the authority of a Prince of Elves.

To my intense relief I saw Haldir shrink within himself a bit.  Yet the 
Gaurdian held his ground.  “It is not a question of ceremony.  The Lady is 
working with powerful spells and enchantments.  To disturb her now 
would be dangerous to her.  The lord Celeborn is assisting her.  Neither 
shall be interrupted in their work while I live.”  Haldir spoke quietly but 
firmly and I believed him.  This was not the point upon which to test him.

“Very well.”  I conceded. “In the interim, however, there can be no harm 
in permitting me to speak with Gimli.  Surely, you cannot suspect me of 
any sort of conspiracy.”

“I suppose that may be permitted.”  Haldir agreed.  Apparently, though he 
was ready to be condescending he was not prepared to level any sort of 
actual accusation. 

“And my companions?  I am prepared to vouch for them.  It would be a 
kindness for the little ones to see their friend.”  I pushed.  If I could do 
nothing else I could at least ensure that Gimli was treated properly as well 
as given the comfort of his companions.

“I will agree only if they give their word not to aid the dwarf in any 
attempt at escape.”  Haldir answered eyeing Boromir and the hobbits 
critically.

“All right, I promise.  Just let us talk to him, please.”  Frodo said.  The 
other hobbits followed his lead and agreed to Haldir’s condition.  

“I will not bind myself in oath to deny succor to a friend and companion.”  
Boromir grated between clenched teeth.  I guessed the man had more to 
say but I stepped in quickly.  I meant to see Aragorn rescued.  I was not 
going to let Boromir’s temper, no matter how justified, interfere with my 
goal.

“The hobbits, then, will keep company with the dwarf.”  I said in a tone 
which I hoped would close the subject.  “Haldir, I will need to borrow a 
bow and quiver as well as some knives.  Gather as many warriors as may 
be quickly assembled.  See that a healer is among them.  We must be 
prepared to ride swiftly at first light.”  I ordered.  Pleading had only earned 
me arrogant answers so I decided to take a different approach.

Lorien’s guardian shook his head.  “I will not abandon my post nor will I 
instruct others to do so.  I am sorry but you must wait.”

“Enough time has been wasted already.  If you won’t help us then just 
give us horses and you can go to the devil.”  Boromir interjected hands 
clenching and unclenching in spasms of impatience.  In truth, I was 
surprised the warrior had been able to restrain himself for so long.  Still, I 
couldn’t have him antagonizing Haldir now.  Whatever Boromir thought, 
we would need help to rescue Aragorn.  I glared at the man until he 
subsided. 

“If, through your inaction, Haldir, harm comes to Aragorn, the Lady 
Evenstar will not forgive you.”  For the first time I saw that Haldir was 
truly troubled by my appeal.  It pained me that even now, with Arwen 
miles away in Rivendell her name had more power to aid Aragorn than all 
my pleading. 

“Perhaps a few elves might be persuaded to help you in the name of 
Arwen Udomiel. . .  I am still not certain if I can, in good conscience 
permit it.”  Haldir rubbed at his chin in indecision.  I stood poised on the 
balls of my feet waiting for his answer.  I had used my best arguments.  If 
he refused now Boromir and I would indeed have to go alone.

“If I were in your place, Captain Haldir,” Boromir began and I gave him a 
malicious stare for his bluntness was of no use here but he continued 
anyway, “and someone came to tell me of so great a threat so near my 
borders then I would consider it my duty to investigate as soon as 
possible.”  Boromir finished studiously avoiding my eyes.

“You don’t expect me to believe that some thirty dwarves already 
burdened with a prisoner can pose a danger to Lothlorien.”  Haldir 
responded with incredulity.

“Not the dwarves, man,” The warrior answered heedless of the breach of 
etiquette in his terminology, “the tunnel!  An army could come through 
and an arrow through your throat would be the first you’d know of it.  
Legolas knows where the entrance to these underground passages may be 
found.  At the very least you should post watchers.”

“I will gladly show you, Haldir.  The dwarves spoke of a mass of orcs 
passing adjacent to us while I was kept prisoner.  Who knows but that 
Lothlorien is their target.”  I added quickly and with perhaps a bit too 
much enthusiasm.  I doubted that either Saruman or his master meant to 
attack Lothlorien but I kept this speculation to myself, however.  If Haldir 
would do his duty he must grant me my desire.

“Yes, I had not thought.  It is not natural for those with honor to expect an 
attack from underneath.  All right, Legolas, you may have your way.  Lead 
me to the dwarves’ tunnel and then we shall see what may be done for my 
lady Arwen’s betrothed.”  Lorien’s guardian finally assented.

“Aragorn first.”  I insisted.  “Then I am at your disposal.”

“Very well.  I have much to arrange.  I will send someone to you with 
weapons.”  Haldir promised.  My heart sang with relief but I kept my face 
impassive.  On the other hand, the hobbits, who had been hanging on 
every word did nothing to conceal their own joy and Boromir looked 
pleased with himself. 

Haldir had turned to go when Pippin piped up: “What about Gimli?  You 
said we could see him.”

The guardian of Lorian sighed a little over dramatically but he knew when 
he had been beaten.  “Come with me.  I shall find someone to take you to 
him.”  With that Haldir turned away followed by the four hobbits.

“If you insist on coming then you would do well to seek a mount, 
Boromir.”  I advised my remaining companion.  “Not all elfish mounts 
will be willing to bear so much weight not to  mention the indignity of a 
saddle and harness.  Be warned if you cannot move with speed I will not 
slow our pace for you.”

“You need have no fear for me.  I can keep whatever pace you set, aye and 
I may exceed it.  For I shall not waste time on so much prissy talk while 
my. . . my companion is in danger.”  Boromir retorted.

I sighed.  Though I could not have predicted it, Boromir’s argument had 
done much to convince Haldir but I was also certain that the man’s 
rudeness might easily have turned Haldir permanently against us.  I was 
glad of the man’s help but frustrated by his acid tongue.  A phrase taught 
me by one of my father’s more diplomatic advisers slipped into my mind 
and I said it aloud for Boromir’s benefit.  “If you would lure flies it is best 
to lay out honey.”

Boromir grunted derisively.  “You lure flies with shit, elf.”

My temper, stretched beyond endurance, snapped.  With a swift motion I 
shoved the heavier man hard against a tree.  My fist tightened around the 
stiff leather at the warrior’s collar and I leaned forward so that our faces 
were but a breath apart.  “I don’t know what game you think you are 
playing at but if you do or say anything that hinders me in this expedition 
I’ll make you wish your father had never laid eyes upon your mother.”

“You are serious, then?  You truly mean to help him?”  Boromir asked, 
quietly.

I released my hold upon the blond man reeling back as though struck.  
“How could you ever doubt that?”  I demanded, shocked.

The warrior shrugged.  “You left him there.”

My throat closed and I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes.  Whatever 
my private guilt I owed the man before me no justification of my actions.  
I was about to answer him coldly when something in his eye caught my 
attention.

“We both did the right thing, Boromir.  We made the best choice we 
could.  Aragorn understands that.”  I said finally.

Boromir pushed himself away from the tree I had shoved him against and 
straightened his clothing.  “If that is so then why do I feel like a traitor and 
a coward.”  It was not really a question and that was just as well for I had 
no answer for him.  Only Aragorn’s safe return could begin to set things 
right with Boromir’s conscience and my own.

“You had better see to a horse.”  I said again for I suddenly wanted very 
much to be alone.

Though, the blond warrior nodded he did not leave.  “You told Haldir to 
bring a healer.  How badly is he hurt?”

I had not expected the man to remember such a detail.  I hoped the hobbits 
had not noticed.   Such knowledge could only cause them worry.  “I am no 
judge of such things but when I left him he was lucid and save for an 
injury to his leg he could move well enough.”  I answered unwilling to 
speak to Boromir about the undefinable air of exhaustion that had haunted 
the ranger the last time I had seen him.

The warrior bit his lip, nodded again and then finally headed off.  When I 
could no longer hear his footsteps I let my eyes drift closed.  I tried to 
quiet my mind and allow the harmony of the forest to touch me.  I do not 
know how long I stood there lost in the endless patterns of life on life that 
pervaded the Golden Wood but I was suddenly brought back to myself by 
a small cough.  Opening my eyes slowly I saw an elf standing before me.  

When he saw that he had my attention the elf cleared his throat and spoke.  
“Haldir bid me bring you these.”  The elf produced two long knives from a 
satchel and a bow and quiver.  I took the weapons feeling the weight and 
balance of the knives and testing the pull of the bow.  I smiled to myself 
happy to be armed once more.

“Also Haldir suggested you might want these.”  The elf said pulling a 
shirt, tunic and leggings from the satchel.  “We have baths fed by hot 
springs.  No doubt you wish to refresh yourself after your ordeal.  I can 
show you if you would like.”  The elf’s tone suggested that should I ask he 
would be willing to attend me.  I did want to get clean but I wanted 
nothing of luxury nor did I want the impersonal solicitude of a casual 
acquaintance.  Declining his offer of directions I thanked the elf with 
civility but without much warmth.  When I was alone again I took my 
borrowed weapons and clothing and went in search of a river.
*
Some time later I stood looking out over the night.  There were hours yet 
before daybreak but in the Golden Woods of Lothlorien it was never very 
dark.  The moon and stars shone splendidly but more than that the trees, 
the earth itself seemed to have acquired a warm glow.  I wondered briefly 
if my companions found the perpetual light as hard to bear as the endless 
dark.  For myself, I gloried in even the faintest glimmer.  My skin felt raw 
from where I had scrubbed it with sand and cold water in a frantic effort to 
rid myself of the dirt and grime of the underground.

After I had finished bathing I had gone in search of food.  I had not been 
particularly hungry but it had been a long time since I had eaten and I 
knew my strength was not inexhaustible.  Now I had no more reasons to 
delay.  It was time I visited Gimli.  I was strangely reluctant.  What could I 
possibly say to him?  But I felt I had a duty to my companion and I could 
not leave without speaking to him.  What if I never returned from my 
attempt to save Aragorn then I would never have the chance to explain. . . 
explain what?  I did not know but I had to try to figure it out.  Pushing my 
still damp hair from my eyes I shouldered my bow and prepared to find 
Gimli son of Gloin, dwarf of the Lonely Mountain, companion to the 
fellowship and prisoner of Lothlorien, the Golden Wood of the elves.

Lorien had no dungeons in the conventional sense.  Elves did not lock up 
other elves as some races were wont to do to their own kind.  Crime was 
extremely rare.  Nature provided so thoroughly for our every desire that 
the idea of taking from another made little sense.  So it was that I found 
Gimli in a rather makeshift prison.  The dwarf was enclosed by living 
branches that had been coaxed apart to allow him entrance and then 
allowed to grow closed again.  The ‘bars’ of his cage might permit the 
passing of food but not even the slenderest elf would be able to pass 
through the small space.  Inside Gimli had perhaps ten feet by five feet of 
space.  It was not a generous confinement.

The four hobbits slept together in a bit of a tangle pressed near the 
branches.  If he had desired to do so Gimli could have reached through to 
stroke a curly head or clasp a tiny hand.  The loyalty and affection offered 
by these small beings tugged at my heart.

“They are noble creatures, are they not?”  The dwarf’s low rumble caught 
me off guard for he had been so still I had thought him asleep.

“Aye, they are indeed.”  I replied softly.  By an unspoken agreement Gimli 
moved to the opposite end of his prison and I went round to join him so 
that our voices might not disturb the sleepers.

“I am glad to see you well, Legolas.  The hobbits told me but I am glad to 
see it myself.”  Gimli said after a moment’s uncomfortable silence.

“I am made of sturdy stuff.”  I replied with half a smile.  I did not want 
Gimli to ever know just how deeply I had been affected by my capture for 
my own pride’s sake at least as much as to alleviate any guilt the dwarf 
might be feeling.  “And you?  You do not suffer?”  I asked carefully.

Gimli surveyed his prison for a moment before shrugging.  “It could be 
worse.”  The dwarf said stoically but after a moment’s pause he continued.  
“Though, I am more glad then I like to confess for the company of the 
young ones.  I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

I shook my head emphatically.  “You owe me no thanks.  Neither the 
grave urgency of our mission nor my given word was enough to earn your 
freedom.  It is a deep shame to me that my people have done this.  This 
incident is a black mark upon the elves.”  I said feeling my indignation 
rise once more.

“It is not the proudest moment for my kind either.”  Gimli returned, 
laconically.

There was another long silence.  Then Gimli said: “The hobbits tell me 
that you and Boromir will go forth tomorrow and rescue the ranger.”  I 
nodded and the dwarf continued: “I hope that he has not been hurt badly 
and. . . and that it was none of the doing of the renegades.”

“Did the hobbits tell you that he had been injured?”  I asked concerned for 
the state of mind of the little ones.

“No, they said nothing.  I only presume that he was hurt.  What other 
reason could explain his absence?”  Gimli replied.

I smiled a little at the dwarf’s logic.  “He was hurt.  I cannot say how 
seriously.”  I paused for a moment before concluding factually if not 
accurately.  “He came by the injury by mischance.  There was no malice 
harbored against him.”

Gimli was only slightly relieved by my answer.  He had risen to his feet 
and he was pacing along the side of his prison agitatedly.  “I would to god 
I was going with you.  The renegades have already lived far too long.”

I drew back at his vehemence.  “Gimli, whatever their faults- and I am not 
one to speak words in their defense- it is no small thing to spill the blood 
of your kind.  I think it may be an accidental mercy of this entire fiasco 
that you are not called upon to take up arms against your own kindred.”  I 
said, hoping that I would be spared from ever having to fight my own 
blood.  As I came to understand the depth of my feeling for Aragorn I also 
came to acknowledge the possibility that I would be put in such a position 
but such thoughts were the stuff of nightmares.

Gimli, however seemed to feel no such conflict: “‘My own kindred’” He 
repeated, venom dripping from his words.  “If I am not against them then 
I’m for them and if I am for them I’m lost.  They may be of my race but 
by my choosing they are my enemies.  They are no better than orcs to me.  
Worse, even, for what choice had orcs in their evil.”

I gazed at the dwarf seeing in the short yet sturdy figure a strength of 
character and adherence to principal that I hoped I would never be called 
upon to demonstrate.  Finally, I spoke and it seemed to me my words were 
close to the heart of what I had sought the dwarf out for in these last few 
hours before dawn.  “Though, neither of us began this journey with much 
love for the other you, at least, had some personal cause to mistrust me.  
Yet for all our animosity you never judged me by father’s deeds.  I do not 
know if I could have been so generous or so wise.”

Gimli blinked at me a few times before sitting heavily upon the ground the 
energy seemingly drained from him.  “You are not your father.  If you had 
been of his character then you never would have been in attendance at 
such a council.  Besides you give me more credit than I deserve.  I did not 
need a reason to dislike you and I persisted in my opinions long past the 
time when a creature with sense would have abandoned them.  But let us 
not speak further of such things.  If you are willing to forget your own past 
feelings then I am more than content to forget mine and shall we not, then, 
both be the happier?”  Gimli offered, raising a bushy eyebrow.

With a genuine smile I reached through the branches offering my hand.  
“Agreed, friend dwarf.”

Gimli was thrown slightly off guard by the presence of my hand before 
him, but he recovered readily enough and clasped my hand firmly.  
“Agreed, friend elf.”

I returned the pressure and we stood together for several moments.  At 
last, I withdrew my hand.  I think Gimli expected me to say ‘farewell’ and 
the time was near when I was to meet Haldir and Boromir but there was 
one last thing which I had to say.  I felt I had come to a very important 
understanding with my. . . my friend.  I wanted our parting to be amicable 
but the topic I had left for last was not conducive to good feeling.  Part of 
me wanted to go now and let my question go unasked but my curiosity, an 
aspect of my personality which was usually somewhat less than keen, 
seemed now to be all-consuming.

The silence had stretched and the dwarf was studying me expectantly.  
Taking a deep breath, I unburdened my mind.  “The leader of the renegade 
dwarves, you heard him speaking of elves.  He hated us.”

Gimli nodded carefully, uncertain where I was going.

“He made many accusations.”  I continued, picking my words with care.  
“He seemed to blame us for the deaths of his sister and his father.  I know 
there has not been open war between our peoples for a long time but, well, 
is it possible that elves might have been responsible?”

Gimli studied me before answering.  “What difference does it make?  You 
didn’t do anything to him.  Besides, whatever misfortunes he may have 
suffered that is no kind of excuse for treating with the Betrayer of Souls.”

“I don’t seek to excuse him.”  I said hotly.  “But I want to know.  I want to 
know what can poison a heart with so much hatred.  I want to know what 
my own people are capable of.”  I finished, more calmly.

Again Gimli paused before offering a reply.  “I don’t know anything about 
specifics.  Sometimes a person is just, by nature, a good hater but I have 
heard stories.”

As Gimli spoke I leaned in closer.  “Tell me.”  I demanded anxiously.

The dwarf was obviously uncomfortable but he yielded to my insistence 
and continued.  “Occasionally reports, rumors really, would filter back to 
the Lonely Mountain of small colonies of dwarves, single families more 
often, that had died in fires set by elves who feared the dwarves’ tunnels, 
the dwarves’ homes would inhibit the expansion of the forests.  It is 
possible that Dafyd’s kin died in such a circumstance.  But I don’t know if 
the stories are even true.  There was never any reliable confirmation that I 
heard of.”

“But you believe the tales, do you not?”  I asked.

Gimli shrugged.  “I have said I do not know and there are some dwarves 
for whom the rain can’t fall from the sky without it being the fault of the 
elves.  But . . .but, yes I believe there is some truth to the stories.”

“Even with all I know about the world and the world seen through the eyes 
of my father I still find it difficult to believe that elves could intentionally 
kill dwarves in their homes.”  I admitted feeling chilled by the entire 
conversation.

“Well, I doubt it was on purpose.  As I understood it, the elves’ concern 
was for the trees.  They weren’t really interested in what if any effect their 
actions would have on dwarves.”  Gimli said, trying to offer me something 
he thought would give me some comfort.

As he spoke, though, I remembered Dafyd, his mammoth pride and his 
fierce intensity.  I remembered his calculated treatment of me, as though I 
wasn’t important enough to consider.  “That would only have made it 
worse.”  I said, sadly for had I, myself, not preferred being hated to being 
ignored.

“Well even if it’s true, and mind it may not be, does it change anything?”  
Gimli asked.

“It does not change the fact that I will rescue Aragorn even if I have to 
wade through a river of blood to do it, but it does grieve that so much 
suffering could have been prevented with a little care.”  I did not feel sorry 
for the dwarves who had driven me near to madness and who even now 
held my beloved captive against his will but neither could I now hate them 
with the same fervent passion.

“If there is to be blood than strike a blow in my name and feel no grief for 
it.”  Gimli answered some enthusiasm returning to his voice.

I smiled at my friend and then looked up at the sky.  The night was nearly 
done.  “The hobbits are in your charge.”  I said. and Gimli nodded gravely.  

The fact that Gimli was a prisoner did not in any way diminish the deadly 
seriousness with which he accepted the responsibility.  Having been, thus, 
reminded once more of my companion’s predicament, I continued:  “I can 
make no guarantee but should I live to return here then I will bend my 
every effort to seeing you restored to freedom.”  I promised, as my mind 
began to fill once more with thoughts of Aragorn.

Gimli gestured as though to indicate any such promise was unnecessary 
but in the end he nodded, accepting my pledge.  Without further word of 
parting I turned from the dwarf and went swiftly to where I was to meet 
Haldir, Boromir and the others.  Soon I would be reunited with Aragorn.  
Nothing else could be as important as that to me.
*
Hurrying, though the time for our departure was still a while away, I went 
to a large clearing where Lorien’s horses were kept to select a mount.  I 
found that Boromir had taken my advice and was leading a grey stallion 
around the yard, talking softly to the animal and desperately trying to 
make friends.  When he saw me he came over coaxing his somewhat 
reluctant mount to follow him.

“I see you have him saddled and he has not kicked you.  Well done, 
indeed.”  I haled the man.

“Yes, and it has only taken me the better part of two hours.”  The warrior 
complained as he came along side of me.  Amused somewhat by 
Boromir’s irritation I whispered softly to the horse.  Immediately, the 
animal’s skittishness seemed to evaporate.  I stroked his neck 
affectionately and the stallion whinnied appreciatively.

“Elves,” The blond man commented peevishly.  “Even your horses are 
bloody snobs.”

I thought the man’s remark somewhat unjust, or if not unjust at least 
poorly timed and I was prompted to reply: “I have not noticed that you are 
a particularly cosmopolitan man yourself, Boromir.  I doubt you had so 
much as seen an elf ere you came to Rivendell begging aid.”

The man grunted.  “‘Tis true, but perhaps history will forgive me my 
narrow mind.  After all, all my years have been spent upon the front line 
of battle, fighting the enemy where there are no elves to be found even had 
I wished to seek one out.”

I stared for a moment in silence.  How had Aragorn borne this man’s 
insolence for so long with so much patience?  Then Boromir passed a 
hand over his eyes before sighing deeply.  “I beg your pardon.  I should 
not have spoken so.  I have become waspish with so many cares.”  

I looked at the man before me.  Since I had come to Lothlorien I had not 
taken the time to truly see him.  His brow seemed to have developed a 
permanent crease between his eyes.  His jaw was locked tight and I 
guessed his teeth were unconsciously grinding together.  His eyes were red 
and dry and yet they shone with purpose.  I wondered, at first, if Boromir 
was not struggling with ring lust but I discounted that possibility.  I had 
seen Boromir with Frodo earlier.  Not only had the man paid little 
attention to the hobbit, Frodo, himself, who was ever sensitive to the 
ring’s influence on others had not appeared to be avoiding the blond 
warrior.  At least, he avoided him no more than usual.  

Whatever demon plagued the man, however, the apology had been offered 
of his own will. Though it had not come easily to him he had managed to 
say it and I could respect that.  I could not in good conscience bear malice.  
Even so my interest was somewhat aroused.  “I am not myself either or I 
would not have provoked you.  I fear the strain wears on us all.”

‘Not myself’, I though wryly.  That was a very concise summary of the 
effects of so much fear and darkness.  My mind sought relief in anything 
including petty bickering from the soul deep terror that awaited me should 
I think too long upon Aragorn’s peril.  Even now my thoughts skittered 
away from such contemplation and returned to the consideration of my 
companion who had been silently staring off into space since last I spoke.

“Boromir?” I asked carefully.

The warrior shook himself as though he had been startled.  “What? Oh, I 
meant to ask.  How fares the dwarf, Legolas?”

“He is as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”  I answered.  
Boromir nodded once but soon I saw that he was again distracted by his 
own thought.  I controlled the impulse to inquire about the blond man’s 
state of mind.  Whatever it was, so long as it didn’t interfere with the 
rescue, it could wait.

We spoke no more as I selected a mount for myself and another for 
Aragorn and Boromir continued his attempts to make friends with the 
horse he had chosen.  As we went about our separate tasks the night crept 
closer to dawn.  Elves began to arrive in twos or threes and I assumed they 
were going to accompany us.  There was as yet no sign of Haldir, 
however.

“If that glorified gatekeeper is late by so much as a minute I’ll skin him 
and the consequences be damned.”  Boromire grumbled.  Though the 
statement encapsulated my own feelings precisely I was about to attribute 
the comment to the blond man’s general grumpiness but there was 
something in his voice that caught my attention.  I turned from stroking 
the sorrel mare I had chosen and saw in Boromir’s eyes the faint shadow 
of the emotions that I knew shone brightly from my own eyes.

“When did the fate of the Isildur’s heir come to mean anything to you, 
man of Gondor?”  I asked coldly for I had seen in Boromir’s face longing, 
devotion and a desperate fear.

I expected the man to bluster, to talk about the bond between comrades-in-
arms and the loyalty between soldiers but to my surprise he answered 
frankly without any attempt at evasion.  “There was no single moment, no 
one thing that made everything change.  It is hard to explain but it is so 
clear to me now that the future of everything I love rests with Aragorn. 
Gondor cannot lose him.  I cannot lose him.”  The warrior’s voice was 
thick with the intensity of his feelings and his knuckles were white as he 
clutched his sword.

I gazed coldly for a moment before turning back to my horse.  “That is 
quite a reversal for you, is it not?  I thought you were of the opinion that 
‘Gondor needs no king.’  What has changed so much?”  I asked trying to 
sound nonchalant.

“I said that because. . . well I said it for a lot of reasons.  Most of which 
don’t do me much credit.  Having come to know Aragorn, though, during 
this expedition it has become so obvious.  I don’t know how I didn’t see it 
sooner.  But you are an elf, such things are between men.  You can’t 
understand.”  Boromir did not intend to be unkind.  He believed that he 
was only speaking the truth yet his words had wounded me deeply.

Jealousy burned within me.  Of course, I knew that Boromir was not 
describing any sort of romantic infatuation.  I would certainly have noticed 
if the blond man had harbored such feelings for my beloved.  No, Boromir 
loved his City, his people, the men under his command, his family and 
now his king.  I doubted erotic love could ever hold much sway over such 
a man.  No, what made me mad with jealousy was the special relationship 
that Boromir seemed, somehow, to be entitled to.

‘Such things are between men’ he had said.  When Aragorn became king, 
Boromir would stand at his right hand.  All would know of and respect the 
bond between the two.  Boromir would serve his king with loyalty and 
devotion and his reward would be love and friendship.  Whereas I, I who 
had loved Aragorn since before Boromir had been born, where was my 
place?  Would I become some relic of Aragorn’s childhood loitering 
around the halls and antechambers of his palaces as my beloved went 
about the business of caring for his people?  Yet I had wanted Boromir to 
accept Aragorn.  Such feelings were unworthy of me.  Especially now, 
when Aragorn’s safety still lay in doubt.
*
As the first light of dawn lit the sky, Haldir strode into the yard.  “Well, 
Legolas, you have been so anxious to depart.  Are you ready now?”

“I am ready.  As soon as the remainder of our group arrives we should 
go.”  I said.

Haldir surveyed the yard and the elves who stood by their mounts.  “I 
believe we are all assembled.  We are fourteen, more than enough to 
handle a pack of dwarves.”  In truth, the group numbered fifteen.  Haldir 
had not bothered to count Boromir.

“The dwarves have more than twice our number.  I don’t want your over-
confidence to keep us from helping Aragorn.”  I said sharply.

“Legolas, I have been very patient with you but you are growing tiresome.  
Fourteen will be plenty.  Besides, my hope is that we shall not need to do 
any fighting.  Our primary mission is to deal with the enemy tunnel so 
near our borders.  I am sure that once the dwarves see the force arrayed 
before them they will give up the man with no need for battle.  Now are 
you coming or not?”  Haldir said mounting and signaling his elves to draw 
into formation behind him.

I sighed worriedly but I doubted that I would be able to change Haldir’s 
mind and I didn’t want to delay so much as a second longer.  So I mounted 
my horse and cantered to the head of the column to lead the group to 
Aragorn.
*
I rode south and east at a gallop.  I could tell from Haldir’s disapproving 
expression that he thought so much speed was reckless but I did not let his 
opinion slow me in the least.  My plan was to pick up the dwarves’ trail a 
few miles east of where I had left Aragorn the day before.  I did not know 
how much ground the dwarves had managed to cover last night and this 
morning so I would have to be careful not to go too far east and overtake 
them.
It did not take long before I spotted the telltale signs of crushed grass and 
broken tree limbs and twigs that indicated the dwarves’ passage.  I 
dismounted hurriedly as did Haldir at a more sedate pace.  I was not the 
best tracker Mirkwood had ever produced but anyone could have followed 
such a trail.  What I was less certain about was how far away our quarry 
was. I looked to Lorien’s guardian for his judgment.

Haldir examined the signs with due deliberation.  “They have passed here 
very recently.  I would say no more than two hours ago.  They are moving 
exceedingly slowly- even for dwarves.”

“All right.  We will ride on a few miles more.  Then we will dismount, 
leave the horses and do our best to surround them unawares.”  I suggested 
and Haldir nodded agreement.  We would have to leave someone with the 
horses but that could not be helped.  I hoped that the dwarves would be 
reasonable.  I might not be able to protect Aragorn if it came to a fight.
*
I moved warily toward the cluster of dwarves progressing slowly 
eastward.  I saw Aragorn as soon as I was able to see the dwarves 
themselves.  I released a breath I was not aware that I had been holding.  
Oh gods, to see him living, I was overwhelmed.  I had to turn away 
quickly for I feared I might lose myself in the tide of emotions too long 
contained.  I advanced closer careful of every sound I made.  I need hardly 
have bothered, however, for any noise I made was drowned out by 
Boromir lumbering beside me.  I winced every time the man took a step 
and I wondered that the dwarves did not seem to hear his thunderous 
footfalls.  

I had asked the man to remain with the horses once we approached near 
our quarry but the blond warrior had staunchly refused.  I could not sway 
him so Haldir assigned an elf to the task.  Before fanning out to encircle 
the dwarves I informed both Boromir and Haldir in my most imperious 
and authoritative voice that I would treat with the renegades without any 
interference from either of them.  Haldir agreed though he warned me to 
avoid a battle if it could be helped.  Risking elves for the sake of a human 
was not something Haldir could well countenance.  Though Boromir also 
agreed to my demand I decided to keep the blond man close by so that I 
could keep a close eye upon him.

So it was that I now crouched beside Boronir concealed by the tall grass 
directly in the path of the slow moving dwarves.  As I waited a few 
moments to make sure my comrades had had time to arrange themselves 
in a rough circle around the moving dwarf troop I stole a longer look at 
my beloved and was shocked to see his condition.  He was walking but he 
was leaning heavily upon a tree branch which he used as a staff.  Dwarves 
stood on either side of him supporting him by the elbows and around his 
waist.  Blood and dirt covered him.  he seemed very pale except there 
were bright spots of color in his cheeks.  Even as I watched I saw my 
strong, steady ranger sway like a leaf in the wind.  I wanted to run to him 
but I felt frozen.

My paralysis abated as I heard Boromir draw in his breath in a startled 
hiss.  Aragorn and his captors must have finally come within range of the 
man’s near vision.  I felt the blond warrior tense with rage and 
indignation.  If Boromir had been able to see Aragorn clearly enough to be 
so appalled at his condition then I judged the dwarves were close enough 
to see me as I emerged from hiding.  I trusted Haldir’s elves were well 
positioned for I would keep still no longer.

I rose suddenly.  “Dafyd!”

The group of dwarves halted.  Hands sought axes and the formation 
tightened ready to meet the new threat.  Dafyd, however, did not reach for 
his weapon.  Boromir had risen with me and his larger build made a 
somewhat more imposing figure, even so, the dwarf leader’s gaze locked 
with mine.  “Shouldn’t you still be running?”  Dafyd called back.

“I have come for the man.  Release him to me.”  I demanded, intent on my 
one goal.

“I would sooner kill him.”  Dafyd answered moving closer to Aragorn.

“Touch him and whatever harm you think you have suffered at the hands 
of elves will seem as nothing compared to the vengeance I will visit upon 
you and yours.”  I said letting my voice drain of all emotion.  As I spoke 
the last words there was a faint rustling and the Lorien elves emerged from 
hiding, bows bent and faces stern.

 There was silence for a moment as the dwarves took in their predicament.  
They outnumbered the elves but the elves were armed with long range 
weapons.  The dwarves could move quickly enough with need and their 
heavy armor would protect them against all but the perfectly aimed arrow 
but though it would cost us dearly in the end the elves would win.

“Give me the man.  He is nothing to you.”  I demanded again.  Dafyd must 
know that his prisoner was dear to me but I hoped he did not know quite 
how dear.  I tried hard to keep my face impassive as Dafyd pondered his 
choices.

Time passed.

“Will you murder for spite?”  I asked, unable to bear the silence longer as 
desperation edged my voice despite my best efforts.  I must have chosen 
the right words somehow, though for Dafyd seemed to catch himself.  For 
the first time Dafyd allowed his eyes to stray from mine.  He looked at the 
faces of the dwarves he led.  He looked at Aragorn and finally he looked 
down at his own hands, staring as though he could read the answers to all 
life’s questions in the lines of his palms.

Without looking up Dafyd spoke.  “Let the other man come forward, then.  
I will not lose any more of my brothers to death at the cold and bloody 
hands of elves.”

Hearing his words the dwarves retreated a bit from Aragorn.  Boromir 
began moving towards the ranger hands held away from himself in a 
gesture intended to mean harmlessness.  I bit the inside of my lip tasting 
blood.  I had to keep my composure just a little longer.

Dafyd was still looking down when Boromir reached Aragorn.  The blond 
man put his arm around the ranger’s waist and Aragorn managed to sling 
his arm around Boromir’s neck.  In my mind I begged the two figures to 
hurry.  At any moment Dafyd might change his mind or an elf might 
accidently loose an arrow or a dwarf might decide to carry out Dafyd’s 
threat to kill Aragorn despite his leader’s subsequent words.  To my 
worried surprise, however, the two were not moving forward.  Aragorn 
still using the tree branch as well as Boromir to support himself seemed to 
be speaking to the other man.  

I could see the blond warrior’s lips compress in disapproval but he spoke 
any way: “What of Anduril?”

My eyes went wide.  If I could have cut out Boromir’s tongue at that 
moment I would have.  Dafyd, too, seemed startled and he turned an 
uncomprehending eye upon the two men.  “The sword you took in the 
mines, Anduril, it must be returned.”  Boromir repeated.  The man clearly 
did not want to be speaking yet he had yielded to Aragorn’s request 
without so much as an objection.  I fully intended to have words with the 
blond man later.

Some of the dwarves were fidgeting restlessly at the audacity of such a 
request but Dafyd almost seemed amused.  The dwarf gestured 
imperiously at one of his subordinates.  “Give the man the sword.”  The 
other dwarf hesitated and Dafyd spoke again this time in annoyance.  “Do 
you truly want to explain a souvenir of this adventure?”

After a brief time, though it was an eternity for me, Anduril was found.  
Dafyd took the blade himself and offered it hilt first to Aragorn.  Aragorn, 
however, needed both hands to remain steady and on his feet so Boromir 
accepted the sword on the ranger’s behalf.  Now, finally, Aragorn was 
coming towards me. It was almost over.

“I have but one more word for you elf and then all is quits between us.”  
Groaning inwardly I ripped my eyes away from my beloved’s advancing 
form and focused them once more upon the dwarf leader.

“What would you say to me, Dafyd?”  I asked, not really interested.

“Only this: There will come a time for you, as there comes a time for all of 
us if we live long enough, when all your hope will be destroyed, when 
everything you love will turn to dust, when all your former joys will leave 
you flat and empty.  May this time come to you soon.  May you live, 
immortal elf, as your people allowed my loved ones to die: alone and 
silent.”  The final word rang through the bright, beautiful morning and I 
was suddenly afraid.

Having spoken his last Dafyd turned and began leading his dwarves out of 
the circle of elfin archers.  There were a few murmurs from the Lorien 
folk that the dwarves dared turn their backs upon elfin arrows but Haldir 
held them in check.  As soon as the dwarves began moving off, however, I 
threw off the momentary chill of Dafyd’s words and ran to embrace 
Aragorn.

I put my arms around my beloved as gently as possible.  Aragorn returned 
the embrace as well as he could with Boromir still helping to hold him up.  
“Are you all right?”  I breathed.  I could not stop myself from touching the 
man’s shoulders, face and hair as he leaned against Boromir.  I wanted to 
crush him to me but I refrained for I feared I might aggravate some injury.

“The better for seeing you.”  Came the barely audible reply.  I smiled, 
moved beyond tears.  Together, Boromir and I eased Aragorn to the 
ground.  He seemed so thin and so terribly weak that I was quickly 
growing alarmed once more. 

Boromir had brought some water and I supported Aragorn’s head so he 
could drink.  My beloved seemed desperate to take in all the cool liquid in 
desperate gulps but Boromir allowed him only little sips.  “When was the 
last time you had anything to eat or drink?”  The blond man asked 
frowning.

“I don’t think he has eaten since before Gandalf left us.  The dwarves gave 
him a little water yesterday, but not very much.”  I answered for Aragorn 
not wanting him to expend his energy on speech.  Even before Gandalf 
had left Aragorn had been eating very little, surreptitiously dividing most 
of his own ration among the hobbits.

“The dwarves have passed beyond the next ridge still heading east.  I don’t 
think they mean to give us further trouble.  It is time we should see to the 
tunnel entrance, Legolas.”  Haldir said striding up to us. 

“Not yet.  I want the healer you brought to look at Aragorn first.”  I replied 
unconsciously tightening my grip on Aragorn’s shoulders.

“I left Fallon to watch the horses.  Surely, it can wait a little.”  Haldir said 
impatiently.

“Why in the gods’ name would you leave a healer away from where the 
wounded man will be?”  I demanded, worry making my voice sound 
higher.

“Fallon has little experience of battle.  If it came to a fight he would be of 
little use.”  Haldir said sounding indignant.

I was frustrated but arguing would only delay things.  Besides Haldir 
might even have been right.  I didn’t trust my own judgment of such 
things right now.  “Well, have Fallon come here and he can bring the 
horses while he is about it.  I think Aragorn might have a fever.”  I told 
Haldir as I pressed the back of my hand to my ranger’s forehead.  While 
Haldir sent someone to fetch Fallon and the horses I took a wet cloth and 
tried to clean away some of the dirt on Aragorn’s face and Boromir 
continued offering slow slips of water.  

“Are the hobbits all right?”  Aragorn asked anxiously, though he kept his 
hand fastened around Boromir’s wrist keeping the man from taking the 
water too far away.

“The hobbits are all well and safe in Lorien.”  I answered lovingly.

“And Gimli?”

“Gimli is also unharmed.”  Aragorn’s eyes seemed to register the slight 
evasiveness in my tone.  He was about to question me about it but I did 
not give him the chance.  “Be quiet now.  Rest. Let me and Boromir take 
care of things for the moment.  A healer is coming to see to your wounds.  
Then we must take a quick detour so Haldir can set a watch on the dwarf’s 
tunnel and then we shall go to Lorien where you can recover your 
strength.”  So saying I bent down and brushed Aragorn’s temple with my 
lips and since that felt so good I kissed him again on the forehead and then 
once more gently on his lips.  Boromir who had been supporting my 
advise to Aragorn that he rest with vigorous nods of the head widened his 
eyes when he saw me kiss the ranger.  When I kissed Aragorn again 
Boromir turned his head and pretended to study the twigs lying near him 
on the ground.  At another time I might have worried about what Boromir 
thought of such a display of affection but right now I just didn’t care

Haldir returned a little later accompanied by another elf who I assumed 
was Fallon the healer.  When Fallon saw Aragorn he quickened his step.  
This pleased me for I thought it showed the elf was genuinely interested in 
helping.  Fallon knelt opposite Boromir on Aragorn’s left side.  The healer 
immediately began the search for injuries.  Gentle fingers roamed over 
Aragorn’s head as it rested in my lap.  As Fallon probed he murmured 
quietly to himself about the bruises and cuts he found.  

Soon the search progressed to the rest of Aragorn’s body.  Despite the 
abundance of minor injuries Fallon did not find anything to seriously 
alarm him until he came to Aragorn’s left arm.  This arm had been cut by 
the axe blade that Aragorn had used to cut the ropes holding me.  a few of 
the multiple slashes in his forearm were scabbed over.  Cloth from 
Aragorn’s sleeve, however, had gotten into the wounds becoming part of 
the clot.  The deepest of the cuts was still oozing blood and puss.  Fallon 
cut away most of Aragorn’s sleeve and very gently touched a wet cloth to 
his arm.  Before continuing the examination.

The next injury to catch the healer’s full attention was the hammer blow.  
When Fallon’s cautious fingers brushed over Aragorn’s right leg all the 
color drained from my ranger’s face and he drew in his breath in a half 
strangled gasp.  Aragorn’s obvious pain effected me deeply and even 
though I understood Fallon was helping I still wanted to push him away, to 
stop him from hurting my beloved.

As Fallon cut away the cloth covering the injury it became obvious that 
Aragorn’s entire right leg was swollen.  Fallon went ahead and cut away 
Aragorn’s boot also to relieve some of the pressure.  A massive purple 
bruise radiated out, away from what must have been the point of impact.  
Fallon spent a long time probing Aragorn’s knee.  I did not observe Fallon 
ministrations or the injury itself in much detail because I was focused on 
holding Aragorn’s hand and whispering soft reassurances to myself as 
well as Aragorn.

When the examination concluded Fallon sat back on his heals, his lips 
pursed in thought.  I waited anxiously for the healer’s verdict.  Boromir 
was also tense.  Even Haldir who had remained out of curiosity or 
boredom looked interested.  Only Aragorn, exhausted from the pain Fallon 
had unintentionally inflicted, watched the healer with impassivity.

“He has been severely weakened by starvation, dehydration and extreme 
exhaustion.  He has a mild fever which might be a simple symptom of his 
weakened condition or it might mean that the arm has become infected.”  
Fallon pronounced the word ‘infected’ as though it was an esoteric 
medical term that one rarely encountered in normal practice.  “If there is 
no infection then the arm is not really so bad.  Though the loss of blood 
has complicated things.  My biggest concern is the leg.  A bone fragment 
has splintered off the thigh bone and it must be removed.  The swelling 
and trauma to the muscle and connective tissue will heal of their own 
accord given time.”  And now Fallon sounded slightly apologetic.  “I 
really don’t know how long it will take for a human.”

“What if his arm is infected?”  I demanded.

Fallon shrugged: “That is not really my area of expertise.  I um. . . well I 
have never treated a human before.  I’m not exactly sure what to expect.  
It is interesting, though.  Look how slowly these small cuts and bruises are 
healing.  They must be, oh I’d say more than a day old and yet you can 
still see the blue changing to green.  Really this is a wonderful opportunity 
to study the healing process in slow motion as it were. . . ”

“Oh it’s ‘interesting’, is it?  What good are you if you can’t treat a human?  
What good is a healer who only knows how to heal creatures that never 
need it?  Gods!”  Boromir was nearly shouting.

“It’s true most of my experience comes in countering poisons of the 
enemy or treating dire wounds received in battle but I am a good surgeon.  
My stitching has been admired throughout middle-earth since before you 
were born.”  Fallon said sounding a little defensive.

“So has my mother’s” Boromir scoffed.  “If you think you-”

“Boromir, hush.”  Aragorn spoke softly and though I could not quite tell I 
thought he might have been slightly amused.  In response Boromir hushed 
but he did not bother to try and look pleased about it.

“The meat of the matter is that we must soon be on our way.  Do what you 
can to get him ready for travel.”  Haldir said.

“I would not advise moving him.  As I said I don’t know what to expect 
from humans.  It would probably be best not to take any chances.”  Fallon 
returned reaching for his bags in preparation to spread out the tools of his 
trade.

“We will have to take the risk for we cannot stay here.”  Haldir said 
halting Fallon by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“If we shouldn’t move him then we are not going to move him.”  I said 
looking Haldir in the eye.

Haldir sighed in exasperation.  “Legolas, pleases.  Why must every little 
thing be an argument with you?  It is dangerous to remain here.  Orcs rove 
these plains.  Besides I simply must see to the dwarves tunnel.”

I was about to tell Haldir to go find the damn tunnel by himself.  Indeed, 
though it might have been difficult and time consuming it would not have 
been impossible.  The dwarves had covered the place well and masked 
their tracks leading to the tunnel for a few hundred yards.  But Haldir 
could have followed the dwarves track backward until it disappeared and 
then scoured through every blade of grass until he found it.  But Aragorn 
squeezed my hand holding his gently.  “I will be all right, Legolas.  Let us 
do as Haldir suggests.  I am anxious to go to Lorien and see the hobbits for 
myself.”

“‘All right.’ Aragorn, you look like day old death.  Be sensible and stay 
put.”  Boromir said.

“Even in the best of time you never much cared for the look of me, 
Boromir.”  Aragorn said smiling weakly to take any edge off of his words.  
“A few more hours and a bit of riding will not mean the difference 
between life and death.”

“See.”  Haldir said looking approvingly at Aragorn.  “Let’s be off.”

Having decided that the issue was settled Haldir went off to collect his 
elves.  Aragorn was struggling to sit upright with our reluctant assistance.  
“Are you truly certain, my hope.”  I asked softly as Boromir offered a few 
last sips of water.

“Yes, beloved.  I will be fine.”  Aragorn’s answer did not completely 
reassure me but Aragorn probably knew best his own limits so I brought 
up the horse I had chosen for him in Lorien.  It was a piebald stallion I had 
chosen for his even gait and steady stride. Being careful of his wounded 
leg Boromir and I helped Aragonr to mount.  It was obvious that Aragorn 
would not be able to ride by himself so I swung myself up in front of him 
without anyone commenting.

I felt Aragorn rest his weight against my back and his arms circle my 
waist.  “I love you, Sunlight.”  He whispered softly into my ear.

“I love you, too.”  I replied placing my hands over my beloved’s.  Guiding 
the horse with my knees and voice, I made my way forward to show 
Haldir his precious tunnel.
*


Title: Choosing Friends
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.

*
As I led the way to the tunnel Aragorn seemed to sag forward letting me 
support more and more of his weight until even his head fell forward onto 
my shoulder.  I swivelled my head trying to get a look at my beloved to see 
if he was still conscious.  When I moved Aragorn slowly lifted his head.  I 
smiled at him but he did not have the energy to smile back.  I urged my 
horse to greater speed while begging him to jostle his riders as little as 
possible.  Aragorn needed rest and care and in just a few minutes I would 
see that he got both.

It had not taken long for us to reach the place from where I had so recently 
emerged but I grudged every second.  As soon as we drew rein Boromir 
was off his horse and standing by my stirrup.  I dismounted quickly but 
Aragorn was already slipping from the horse’s back into Boromir’s 
supporting arms.  Boromir’s concern for his lord was touching but I did not 
trust anyone else to be as careful with the ranger as I would be.  My lips 
pressed into a grim line, I took a blanket from the saddlebags and spread it 
out beneath a tree a ways away from the tunnel as Boromir half carried 
half dragged Aragorn to the place I had made.

“All right,” Fallon announced in a businesslike tone as he approached us 
rolling his sleeves up.  “I’ll need lots of water and a fire to heat some 
herbs.”  

Boromir immediately began gathering small sticks and twigs.  I collected 
the canteens ready to find the nearest stream but a hand on my arm stopped 
me.  “Come show us what you have promised.”  

I extricated myself from Haldir’s hold.  I turned one longing look upon the 
place where Aragorn lay with Fallon next to him setting up the tools of his 
profession.  I wanted to be with him.  No one could do a better job than I at 
taking care of Aragorn.  What if he called for me and I was not there?  
Boromir would be with him, of course, hovering like a mother hen but the 
blond man could not soothe and comfort Aragorn as I could.  Worry roiled 
inside me but finally with extreme reluctance I tore my eyes from my 
beloved, lying battered and exhausted in the hands of a stranger.  The 
sooner I gave Haldir what he wanted the sooner I could be at my ranger’s 
side.  “This way.”  I said as I moved to the thicket of foliage and shrubbery 
that concealed the dwarves’ tunnel.

I had thought to show the entrance to Haldir and then be back again with 
Aragorn but Lorien’s guardian would not have it so.  I had wanted to go as 
soon as the tunnel’s capstone was unearthed but Haldir had a thousand 
questions which he insisted I answer.  ‘How far down did the tunnel 
extend?’, ‘What were the dimensions of the tunnel?’  ‘Did it follow a 
straight path or twist about?’, ‘How many side passages did I remember?’ 
On and on.

My memories were foggy and confused.  Even the answers I could give 
were fairly vague.  When Haldir stopped his interrogation a moment I 
decided to ask a question of my own.  “If the tunnel is mostly stone will 
fire bring it down?”

“No, the earthworks must be mostly wood before I would trust fire to 
destroy the mines.”  Haldir answered while he stroked his chin and eyed 
the dark wound the dwarves had hewn in the earth.

“You do not intend to destroy the stone supports yourself?”  I asked 
incredulously.  I could not picture Haldir leading elves down into the 
blackness with axes and levers to attack the bulwarks one by one  

“Of course not.”  Haldir said as though such a thing was ludicrous.  “We 
have brought seedlings from the Yenue plant.  In a few days nothing will 
be left of this rabbit warren.”

I nodded approvingly.  It was a clever strategy.  The Yenue plant was a 
weed.  Its roots would grow madly in all directions.  With the aid of the 
elves the already tough, resilient plant could tear through anything.  The 
roots would find even the tiniest fissure or crack in the stone and grow 
splitting the rock into pieces.  Large white stalks would plough through the 
earth in their own chaotic pattern heedless of the destruction of any 
preexisting passages.  

“How long will you oversee the seedlings?”  I asked, curious how long 
Haldir intended to stay here.

“It will take, perhaps, fifteen hours before the plant’s growth should 
become self-sustaining.”  Haldir said still stroking his chin in thought.  
Fifteen hours.  Hopefully that would be enough time for Fallon to see to 
the worst of Aragorn’s injuries with enough time left over for my ranger to 
rest a bit.

As I considered the time I saw that Haldir was still lost in his own thoughts 
and plans.  Soon he would begin assigning his elves to the nurseries, to 
sing to the robust plants and nurture their development.  I had no desire to 
be conscripted for these tasks so, trying to move both quietly and casually I 
started shifting in the direction I had left Aragorn.  If Haldir had any other 
questions he wanted me to answer then he could ask me while I tended to 
my beloved.

I had nearly made good my escape when a thought struck me.  I cringed 
inwardly.  I wanted to ignore the thought.  Aragorn was bare paces away.  
Boromir and Fallon were both huddled over him.  I wanted to be with him, 
to give comfort as well as receive it.  I wanted to lay my head on his chest 
and pretend that he was the only thing that existed.  I wanted to stroke his 
brow and soothe his hurts with my touch and my song but I could not cast 
the thought from my mind.  I could have stamped my foot in frustration.  I 
had been through too much to concern myself with others right now.  Let it 
be someone else’s problem.

I took a few more steps forward.  Still, what if Gimli were to ask about it?  
If Aragorn were standing in my place he would not even need to consider 
so much was the care of others a part of his nature.  He would expect no 
less of me.  I let out my breath in a sigh of resignation and returned to 
Haldir.

“You can’t destroy the tunnel without checking to make sure the passage is 
empty.”  I said, my unhappiness evident in my voice.

“I’m sorry?”  Haldir asked turning from where he had been looking over a 
tray of the more mature seedlings.

“There might be. . . people down there.  We should put out warnings just in 
case.”

“The only beings that we would be likely to find down there are orcs and 
goblins.  You are not suggesting we go out of our way to protect such 
miserable creatures?”  Haldir asked surprised.

“We don’t know who might be down there.  We don’t want to be 
responsible for the death of innocents, do we?”  The expression on 
Haldir’a face as I spoke these words was not encouraging.

“I’m not going to ask any elf to enter the darkness on the extremely remote 
chance that there is anyone worth saving wandering the underground 
passages.”  Haldir decided after a bare moment’s reflection.

I was not really surprised but I still felt a keen sense of disappointment and 
an even keener sense of dread at his words.  “Then I will go.”  I spoke 
quickly, pushing the words out before I could think better of them.

Haldir’s eyebrows rose: “I am not going to stop you if you are determined 
but, Legolas, are you really certain this is something you want to do?”

I did not want to do it at all.  My heart quailed at the very thought of the 
stygian darkness that awaited me but if I did not want the specter of 
Dafyd’s lost kin to haunt me forever then I had no choice.  

“Yes, I’m certain.”  I said before I could change my mind.

“All right, then.”  Haldir said, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that 
said: ‘there is just no accounting for some people.’

“All right.”  I repeated, summoning my courage.

A few seconds passed.  I was still rooted to the spot.  

“Any time you’re ready, Legolas” Haldir said eyeing me.

“Right, I’ll just be going then. I should be back soon.”  I turned on my heel 
before Haldir’s look could become mocking.

“Oh, Legolas!”  I stopped in my tracks, hope surging through me.  Perhaps 
Haldir had changed his mind and he would send someone else in my stead.

“Yes?”  I answered, my heart beating fast.

“While you are down there if you could count how many paces before you 
come to a bend in the tunnel it would help us direct the Yenue’s growth.”  
Haldir said.

It took all my energy to start moving again.  I had nothing left over with 
which to answer Haldir. 

It was all too brief a time before I came to the steep stair leading down into 
blackness.  All around me there was light and life.  How could I leave all 
that?  But I knew without looking that Haldir was watching me.  I had 
committed myself.  Pride would see me through this.  With that thought I 
began the descent.

I had just reached the bottom of the stair when I realized I had not thought 
to bring a torch.  I considered going back for one but I doubted I would 
have the strength to return so I gritted my teeth and resolved to make do 
with the little light from the phosphorescent rocks embedded in the cave 
wall.

I had forgotten how low the ceiling had been.  Once again I wondered why 
I was here; why couldn’t I leave ill enough alone.  Unable to come up with 
a completely satisfactory answer and yet unwilling somehow to stop now I 
started out west.  I hunched over to spare my head and tried not to think 
about how I must have looked.  Not knowing what else to do I called out 
‘Hello!’  every few paces.  By the time I had traveled about three or four 
hundred yards I was beginning to feel very foolish.  There was no one in 
these caves, no one but a lone, slightly deranged elf listening to his own 
echo, an elf who had left his heart’s king wounded and helpless in the care 
of others so he could go mucking about in a dirty little dwarf hole.  That 
was it.  Little as it had been I had done what I could.  Now it was time to 
go to Aragorn.  Having made up my mind I turned to retrace my steps.  It 
was that movement that saved my life.

I felt the whistle of air as a blade slashed through the place where my head 
had just been.  After years of honing already sharp reflexes my body took 
over.  I drew my knives even as I dropped down somersaulting past my 
assailant and coming up behind him while he was still recovering from his 
unsuccessful attack.  Even without the faint glow from the walls I would 
have known I faced a goblin from the hissing and chittering.  Before the 
foul creature was able to completely turn to face me I brought my knife 
across the side if its neck, severing the artery and hacking into cartilage.  I 
did not even wait long enough for the dying body to drop to the floor 
before turning and running.

I was able to move with speed despite the necessity of protecting my head 
from the ceiling by running low to the ground and never fully straightening 
my legs.  As I ran desperately I tried to gather my scattered wits.  A goblin 
was no match for an elf but I had not heard the creature at all before the 
attack.  It must have used the noise of my shouts to mask its approach.  I 
tried to slow myself into a walk or even a jog.  One puny little goblin was 
nothing to be afraid of.  I had to calm down.  Breathing more heavily than 
the run had required I managed to stop.  I took deep breaths and I listened 
for any noise.  There was nothing but silence.  I felt relief but fear still 
gnawed at me.  I had to get out.  It was then that I realized that I had not 
come this way before.

Terror choked me.  What had I done?  Oh gods, oh gods!  I sank to my 
knees.  I needed to scream but I couldn’t make any sound.

Time passed.  An age might have passed as I knelt motionless, numb with 
fear.  Slowly, so very slowly my mind began to stir itself.  I began to 
review what I had done after I had killed the goblin.  I had run, yes, but 
where had I left the main corridor.  I could not remember any side passages 
when I had been moving west hollering like some damn fool.  I had even 
been looking as a favor to Haldir.  So where could I have gone astray?  If 
there had been no side passage and yet I did not know where I was then 
perhaps I had only run too far east in my panic.  If so then all I had to do 
was move west again for a while until I found the stair.

Not daring to hope I picked up my knives.  I had let them fall as soon as I 
realized that I was lost.  That had been stupid but I spared no energy in 
self-reproach.  There would be plenty of time for that later.  Rising with all 
possible stealth I made my way back in the direction I remembered as 
west.  No more did I call out warnings but I moved in perfect silence, like 
a hunter or like the hunter’s prey.  I had walked for a little more than a 
hundred yards and still nothing seemed familiar.  Each step I took and no 
stairway appeared was one step closer to panic.  I tried to remember how 
long I had run in that first blind sprint, but I could have been running for 
hours or mere seconds so confused were my senses.

My legs were shaking and I was very near to tears when I finally saw it, a 
bit of rock that just might be hiding the steps leading back to the sunlight.  
My mind froze refusing to hope in a desperate attempt at self-defense.  I 
approached closer and my heart leapt.  I had found it.  I took the narrow 
stair several steps at a time.  I even used my hands to propel me faster.  
Then at long last I was out.

Several elves were nearby going about various tasks.  They looked up as I 
emerged and some did a double take upon registering my extreme 
agitation.  I made it only a little way before I decided I had to sit before I 
fell.  My legs were still shaking as I sat upon the ground.  I allowed myself 
to see the shades and colors of the landscape.  I tasted the fresh clean air 
and breathed in the rich aroma of late autumn.  I was running my fingers 
through the sun warmed blades of green grass when I heard my name 
being called.  I did not bother to make any acknowledgment.  The feel of 
the grass and the slight breeze were enough to occupy my full attention.

“Legolas!”  This time the sound of my name was accompanied by a hand 
on my shoulder and Haldir crouching down to look into my eyes.  I 
shrugged off Haldir’s hand.  I didn’t want him to touch me.  Haldir looked 
a little hurt and I recollected myself enough to offer a half smile to soften 
the insult.

“Are you all right?”  Haldir asked sounding concerned.

“There wasn’t anyone down there to save.  You were right.”  I said.  “Just 
a stray goblin.”  I laughed a little at the absurdity of the situation.

Haldir nodded and I had the feeling he was humoring me.  “But you are all 
right?”  He repeated.

“Straight for at least 300 yards west and for at least 500 yards east.”  I said.

“What?”

“The tunnel.  It’s straight for more than 300 yards going west and for 500 
yards going east.”  I repeated.  Haldir had wanted me to find out.  I had not 
forgotten.

“Oh, yes.  That’s good.  That’s very helpful.  Are you sure you are well, 
Legolas?”  Haldir responded.

“You already asked that.”  I said, starting to become annoyed.  “I want to 
see Aragorn, now.”

“All right, Legolas.  Would you like me to help you?”

“No.”  I stood up, swayed and would have fallen if Haldir had not caught 
me.

“Well this is a little ridiculous.”  I said as Haldir held me around the waist.  
“I want to see Aragorn now.”  I repeated after a moment.

“Yes, and we can see Fallon as well.”  Haldir said as he maneuvered us 
around so he could support as much of my weight as he needed to.

“Fallon is with Aragorn?”  I asked.  The healer was supposed to be with 
my hope, I remembered.
“Yes, they’re toghether.  Let’s go see them.”  Haldir said.

“All right.”  I agreed letting Haldir pull me along.  “But Aragorn first.”

“I know.”
*
I had gained strength as I walked with Haldir.  As Aragorn, Fallon and 
Boromir came into view I barely needed his supporting arm.  Aragorn was 
sitting with his back to a tree.  His eyes were closed and his face was very 
pale.  Boromir and Fallon were on either side of him.  Boromir was 
fidgeting and watching Fallon like a hawk.  The healer was holding 
Aragorn’s left arm, examining it.  Of the three it was the elf who first 
noticed our approach and rose from Aragorn’s side to meet us after 
carefully returning Aragorn’s arm to his side.

“I have cleansed his arm as much as possible and I have stitched the long 
gashes.”  Fallon reported.  “But he is so weak I want to wait a bit before I 
try to work on his leg.  The more he can recover some strength the better 
he will tolerate surgery.”

I heard Fallon as background noise as I went to Aragorn and took his hand.  
All the strain of the past few days had caught up to my ranger and he 
seemed still unto death.  Trembling I raised his hand to my lips.  I searched 
his face for some sign that he was not as ill as he seemed at first.

“Legolas.”  Aragorn said without opening his eyes.

“Yes, my love, I’m here.  I’m here.”  I whispered as I cradled his hand 
against my cheek.

Aragorn still did not open his eyes but he smiled a little.  On Aragorn’s 
other side Boromir was looking at me as though he could decipher my 
elfish words if only he stared hard enough.  Haldir also watched me with a 
faintly troubled expression.  Fallon was just coming to realize that no one 
was really listening to him and he fell into a confused silence.

“Might I have a moment, Fallon?”  Haldir asked after a brief pause.  The 
surgeon readily assented and the pair moved off a few paces.

“What do you suppose those two have to whisper about?”  Boromir asked 
unconsciously shifting a little so that he was between Aragorn and the two 
elves.  The blond man clearly felt he was missing a great deal that was 
important because of his lack of Elfish.  Seeing Haldir and Fallon speaking 
quietly together throwing occasional glances in our direction only fueled 
Boromir’s distrust and confusion.

“Haldir is worried on my account and I guess that he is sharing those 
worries.”  I said reaching out to stroke Aragorn’s forehead.

“You are acting a bit strangely, elf.  Does he have cause to worry?”  
Boromir demanded looking meaningfully at Aragorn’s hand which I was 
now pressing against my heart.

At this question my beloved finally opened his eyes.  I smiled and blinked 
back tears.  “I am tired and my heart is sore and filled with grief.”  I replied 
and at the admission I felt two tears escape and burn furrows down my 
cheeks.  “But I can continue.”  I finished.  Hearing this my beloved 
managed a small smile and then closed his eyes once more.

I could tell Boromir was not entirely satisfied but at that moment Haldir 
and Fallon returned.  The healer came to me and bent down to my level: 
“Legolas, how do you feel?”

“I am well, Fallon.  Though, I am concerned for Aragorn.”   I said forcing 
myself to give the healer my full attention for the duration of my answer.  I 
did not want my fellow elves to interfere with my attendance upon Aragorn 
out of some misguided notion about what was for my own good.

Fallon nodded and shot Haldir a questioning look.  The other elf only 
shrugged.  “All right.”  Fallon announced bending to collect the left over 
bandages.  “As I said, I have done what I could for the time being.  Give 
him broth as often as he will take it and keep him warm.  Rest will help 
him best now.  In the morning I will have a better idea of his prospects for 
recovery.” 

“Where are you off to, then?”  Boromir demanded seeing that Fallon was 
set to return with Haldir to the center of camp where all the elves save the 
perimeter guard were gathered.

“What needs doing can be done by you as well as I and a good deal better 
if your constant grumbling at my every action is any measure.”  Fallon 
answered with a small smile.  “I am not needed so I will sleep among my 
kin.  If aught changes I will be nearby so that you may call me.”

Boromir was slightly abashed at Fallon’s response and I could well believe 
that the blond man had been pestering the healer with criticisms and 
suggestions since we arrived.  Yet I suspected there was another reason 
Fallon chose to make his bed elsewhere.  Though, he was a healer he was 
unaccustomed to human suffering.  Death hovered ever near even the 
healthiest mortal man.  The inevitability of pain and death, so foreign to 
my kind, surely frightened the elfin physician.
*
After the departure of Haldir and Fallon, Boromir took a kettle of broth 
that had been warming in the fire and poured some into a bowl.  He 
brought the steaming cup back to where Aragorn lay against the tree.  I 
reached for the broth and Boromir resisted only a little before surrendering 
the bowl.  I brought the bowl up to my beloved’s lips and his eyes fluttered 
open for a moment then drifted shut again but he drank when I tipped the 
bowl slightly forward.  I hoped that Aragorn’s unusual passivity was only 
due to his fatigue and not a symptom of anything more sinister.

After I had helped my ranger to drink and helped ease him into a position 
better suited to rest, I felt Boromir’s eyes upon me.  I could not decipher 
his expression but so much scrutiny was beginning to threaten the mask of 
calm and control which I so desperately needed so that I could take care of 
my poor Aragorn.  “Try to sleep, Boromir.  I will keep watch over him.”

Boromir surveyed our section of camp.  First, he saw that the fire burned 
brightly with an abundance of fuel nearby.  There was a kettle filled with 
broth and the waterskins were filled to the brim.  Someone, almost 
certainly Boromir, had already taken blankets and tucked them around 
Aragorn.  In short, there was no little chore or task that the blond man 
could use to delay going to sleep.  As he looked about trying to think of 
something that needed doing, the elves at the main camp began a song that 
would help guide the Yenue plants as they grew in their destructive path.

“How long is that going to go on?”  Boromir asked hopefully.

“All night, I think.  It will not keep you awake.”  I said anticipating 
Boromir’s next words.  “You must be tired.  You cannot have had much 
sleep last night.”

Gondor’s captain shrugged.  “Not much.”  The blond man confessed.  
“Wake me when you wish to sleep.”  There was definitely something 
troubling Boromir for his reluctance to leave Aragorn in my hands was 
clear.  When my ranger was feeling a little better I would speak to him 
about it.
*
Once Boromir finally settled himself to rest sleep found him quickly.  
When I heard his breath even out into a steady rhythm I sighed and moved 
nearer Aragorn.  I did not touch him because I feared to interrupt his rest 
but I hovered near him.  I murmured, too low for human hearing, words of 
comfort and love. 

Though I was tired I knew I would not sleep.  There was a partial 
numbness in my mind that was shielding me from the worst of the effects 
of my concern for Aragorn and my experiences in the cave.  I cherished the 
numbness for it was the only thing that gave me enough control to help 
Aragorn.  Even so, I feared to take my eyes from Aragorn as though his 
next breath depended solely on my observation.  Without the light of the 
fire and the stars, without the soft sound of elfish singing and without the 
nearness of my beloved I knew that my mind would have been tortured by 
the horror of the last few days.   I felt as though the darkness was ever near, 
ready to consume me if I let down my guard.  I wondered, as I caressed 
Aragorn’s slumbering face with my gaze, how it was humans could sleep 
in darkness with their eyes closed against the light.  

Aragorn woke often in the night.  Each time he moved a little in his sleep 
the motion would jar some injury and he would come awake with a small 
moan.  When this happened I offered him a sip of broth and then I tried to 
soothe him back to sleep.  He seemed to relax a little when I stoked his hair 
and put my arms about him.  Once he woke with my name on his lips and 
fear in his eyes and it took several moments before he realized I was there 
and he calmed. Some time later, though, he called for Frodo and he would 
not hear my reassurance but his eyes sought vainly for the small creature 
that had been assigned to his care.  It was exhaustion rather than any effort 
of mine that finally drove him back to sleep.

A little after midnight I was roused from my contemplation of my ranger’s 
features by an alteration in the music of the Lorien elves.  It grew more 
intense, more immediate.  Then I heard a shuddering in the earth.  The 
rumble sent vibrations drumming through my throat and chest.  I did not 
quite panic for the singing of my brethren had alerted me that the Yenu 
plant had grown enough to start causing serious damage to its environment.   
For an awful moment I was back in that claustrophobic store room, my 
lungs filling with dust, debris raining down upon me obliterating the light.  
The flashback lasted only a moment but it left me in a cold sweat.  I 
squeezed Aragorn’s hand in both my own, though the tremor had not even 
been strong enough to wake my beloved from his light sleep. 

Once Aragorn tried to turn and jolted his injured leg badly.  Even Boromir 
was wakened by my beloved’s cry of pain.  The blond man came and knelt 
by Aragorn’s side and looked on helplessly as I made reassuring sounds 
and squeezed the ranger’s hand.  Sweat had broken out across Aragorn’s 
forehead and though his eyes were open it was obvious he was not seeing 
what was before him. 

“Should we get the healer?”  Boromir asked, voice still thick with sleep.

“No, his injuries pain him when he moves.  There is nothing Fallon could 
do.”  I answered, a bit annoyed that the soldier had awakened.

“Well there must be something we can do.”  Boromir insisted.

“There is and I’m doing it.” I replied, reminding the warrior to speak softly 
and soothingly by my own low tone.

Once again Boromir focused that same stare upon me. I did my best to 
ignore it, though it made me somewhat self-conscious.  After a moment, 
Boromir, being careful of the numerous cuts and scratches, reached 
awkwardly for Aragorn’s other hand and held it.  I was surprised at this 
action for I was not quite sure how to interpret it.  Whatever Boromir’s 
meaning though, Aragorn seemed to calm more readily and I even felt a 
little return pressure from his hand held in mine. 

When Aragorn was sleeping again Boromir gently released the hand he had 
held and placed it deferentially by Aragorn’s side.  Then he covered it with 
a blanket.  Having done this the blond man once again looked at me.  
While he had been holding his king’s hand he had studiously kept his gaze 
from mine.  In fact, he had not looked at anything at all but he seemed to 
stare off into the middle distance.  

“Well do you want to sleep now?”  Boromir asked.

“No, sleep will not come to me this night.  I will continue the watch.”  I 
said hoping the blond man would not decide to stay up with me.

“If you’re sure, then.”  Boromir said rising.  I nodded and the warrior took 
several steps toward his bedroll and stopped.  He turned to look at me as 
though he wanted to ask me something though he said nothing.  Finally, he 
came to some decision within himself and shrugging he went back to his 
blankets.
*
As soon as the sun broke the horizon I woke Boromir.  “It is light enough 
for the healer to perform surgery if he judges the time right and I think it 
should be done as quickly as possible so Aragorn may recover a little 
before Haldir decides to leave this place.”

“Are they still at it?”  The man asked groggily.  I thought he must still be 
lost in some dream and then I realized he meant the singing which had 
continued through the night.

“Yes, now will you please fetch Fallon?”  I answered the man wishing he 
would hurry and do as I asked.

“I think you better do that.  I don’t know how well your brethren will take 
to having a mere human interrupt their concert.”  Boromir said somewhat 
ruefully.  “How is he this morning?”

I scowled for Boromir was probably right and I resented having to leave 
Aragorn for even a moment.  “I think he is a little better.”  I replied 
although I had no way to be certain.  “He managed to drink the better part 
of two bowls of broth during the night.”  That was a good sign surely.  I 
waited for Boromir to wake fully before I would consent to go.  When the 
blond man was settled next to Aragorn with his full attention upon the 
ranger I took off at a near run for the center of camp and Fallon.

First, I searched among the singers.  Most of the elves were so 
concentrated upon their music that they did not notice me as I passed 
through their ranks.  Haldir saw me, however.  The guardian of Lorien did 
not break off from his song but he jerked his head to the left indicating 
where I might find the healer.  I nodded a ‘thank you’ and went on to find 
Fallon wrapped in his blankets sleeping soundly.  I smiled a little to see 
elfish sleep.  The healer’s open eyes reminded me that I was not the only 
one to fear the darkness.  

Fallon rose quickly at my urging.  He asked how the patient had fared and I 
gave him the same answer I had given Boromir, though this time I let a 
little of my own uncertainty show.  The healer nodded, absorbing the 
information.  I watched nervously as Fallon stretched banishing sleep from 
his limbs.  Then he searched for his pack.  By the time he was ready I was 
a hair’s breadth from dragging the healer by the hand to his patient.

While I had been gone Boromir had been coaxing Aragorn to drink a bit 
more broth.  Was it my imagination or did my ranger seem a bit more 
alert?  Fallon knelt and touched my hope upon the brow.  “How do you 
feel?”  The healer asked softly.

“Better than I did.”  Aragorn returned barely audibly.

“Watch as I move my finger.”  Fallon requested, holding up his index 
finger and moving it from side to side and up and down.  The ranger 
tracked the motion with his eyes but even that little concentration was 
effortful.  After that the healer counted Aragorn’s pulse, examined the 
gashes he had sewn together last night and gently touched Aragorn’s leg 
causing Aragorn to turn white with the effort of suppressing the pain.  The 
examination concluded, Fallon sat back on his heels and considered.

“I will try to remove the bone fragment.”  Fallon pronounced at length.  
That was good, wasn’t it?  It meant the healer thought Aragorn was strong 
enough to endure surgery.  “I will need both of you to assist me.”  Fallon 
continued, laying out a cloth and placing several tiny knives and other 
paraphernalia of the healer’s art upon it.  Naturally nothing could have 
stopped Boromir and myself from assisting and we awaited only 
instructions.

“Master man, will you please put your hands here and here.”  Fallon said 
gesturing to Aragorn at mid-thigh and mid-calf.  “I need you to hold him as 
still as possible.  Legolas, will you please hold his shoulder and do what 
you may to calm him.”

I moved to sit near Aragorn’s head but Boromir had not yet complied with 
the healer’s request.  “You are going to start now?”  The blond man 
inquired as he watched Fallon hold one of the biggest of the small blades in 
the fire.

“The sooner the better.”

“But aren’t you going to give him something.  Liquor, at least, if you have 
nought else.”  Boromir insisted.  Fallon looked at the warrior levelly 
causing the man to blush slightly.  “I may not be a healer but I know that 
there are herbs, plants and such that can dull pain.”  Boromir said eyeing 
the scalpel.

Fallon sighed.  “If I give him something to push him into sleep then he 
might not find the strength to return from it.  I know my business well 
enough, man, whatever your opinion.”

Boromir had the grace to look embarrassed but still he did not take up the 
post Fallon had assigned him.  Instead he drew his dagger and cut some of 
the surplus length of his belt.  Face still faintly flushed the blond man 
offered the strip of leather to Aragorn.  The ranger had been watching 
events with only the mildest interest as though he was not involved and did 
not know anyone involved but he signaled his acceptance of his subject’s 
offering by opening his mouth and letting Boromir place the leather 
between his teeth.  “If we cannot ease the pain, we may at least see that he 
doesn’t bite through his tongue.”  Boromir muttered to himself as much as 
to anyone else.

Indeed it was not long before Aragorn had need to bite down on the tough 
leather.  I did not see much of the surgery; I kept my gaze fixed on 
Aragorn’s face but even so I knew when the knife first cut through my 
beloved’s flesh.  His whole body jerked and a muffled scream broke from 
him.  I heard Boromir curse softly as he leaned heavily over Aragorn 
pinning his leg.  I held his shoulders and wept.

After the initial spasm Aragorn lay relatively still.  From time to time my 
ranger would go completely stiff as waves of pain washed over him.  The 
very worst of it came near the end as Fallon dug through the meat of my 
beloved’s thigh in search of the sliver of bone.  The healer used one of his 
tools to clasp the muscle and move it slightly so that he could find the 
bone.  In response Aragorn’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head and it 
was several seconds before he began to breathe again.  This last episode 
nearly broke me.  I had been repeating over and over that everything was 
going to be all right and that soon it would all be over but now sobs choked 
me and I fell silent.  Tears flooded down my cheeks and rather than release 
my hold on my ranger I suffered them to flow down my face and drip from 
my chin into Aragorn’s hair.

Sometime after Fallon retrieved the shard of bone and when the surgeon 
began to stitch together the sundered flesh I felt all the strength leave 
Aragorn and I gave thanks that he had finally lost consciousness.  Neither 
Boromir nor I, however, loosened our hold upon Aragorn until Fallon had 
checked the man’s pulse and had the wound cleaned and bandaged.  With 
renewed self-consciousness I scrubbed my sleeve across my eyes and 
sniffed a. little as I waited for my breathing to return to normal.  A little to 
my surprise Fallon looked much the same as I.  I could see that he had shed 
tears and he had left bright red trails on his face where he had tried with 
fingers still wet with Aragorn’s blood to wipe them away.

“I believe that went as well as we might have hoped.”  Fallon reported still 
somewhat agitated.  “Now he has only to survive until his strength returns 
to him.”  The healer had found a cloth and he was desperately trying to 
remove the blood from his hands.  

Boromir surveyed the two distraught elves before him.  Our discomfort 
was making him a little nervous and he sought reassurance.  “So all is 
well?  He will recover?”

“I think so.  Of course he will be weak for much longer than would an elf 
in a similar situation and I am assuming that his arm heals cleanly.”  Fallon 
said still preoccupied with his hands.  “Excuse me, I need to wash.”  With 
that the healer all but ran from us.

“Well, I have never known a healer to have such a weak stomach.”  
Boromir commented, a bit contemptuously.

“You misunderstand him.”  I said removing the scrap of leather from 
between my ranger’s teeth and noting that it had nearly been bitten 
through. 

“Oh?”  The man asked sounding dubious.

“An elfish healer is not just a glorified tailor, Boromir.  You cannot heal a 
body without glimpsing the soul.”  I explained adjusting the blankets so 
Aragorn could rest more comfortably.

“So?”  Boromir asked, taking some bread and pouring himself a bowl of 
the broth from the kettle that still simmered by the fire.

“‘So’, Aragorn’s soul shines brighter than the sun and yet he will die.”  It 
had taken a long time for me to understand this fact and an even longer 
time to accept it.  In comparison the knowledge that his death would mean 
my own had come almost as a relief.

Boromir sobered somewhat at my last statement.  “Yes, but with luck that 
will not be for many years yet.   It is what we do despite death that gives 
man dignity.  Besides everything that lives must die in the end.”

“Elved don’t.  You cannot know what it means for us to confront death and 
be utterly helpless against it.”  I said trying not to get lost in the image of a 
relentless hunter dogging my Aragorn’s footsteps.  Boromir took a bite of 
bread and chewed methodically letting the matter drop though he was 
convinced but little.
*
Not long after the surgery Aragorn woke.  Boromir and I greeted his return 
to consciousness with smiles and soft words.  We urged him to drink more 
broth but for the first time he refused it asking for water instead.  Boromir 
gave him water and he took a small sip and then a few more at my urging.  
Then he seemed to slip into a restless sleep.

I was trying to decide whether I thought my ranger had regained some of 
his lost color when I became aware that the singing had finally stopped.  I 
groaned inwardly and started looking about to see if Fallon was in hailing 
distance.  I saw no sign of the healer but just as I feared Haldir was striding 
toward us.

I opened my mouth but Lorien’s guardian raised his hand for silence.  “We 
are no longer needed here.  It is time for us to return to Lothlorien.  And 
before you ask: No, we cannot delay our return.  Already I feel I have been 
abroad too long.”  Haldir was weary from his efforts of the night before yet 
he spoke firmly.

“At the very least we should consult with Fal-” I began reasonably but 
Haldir cut me off.

“I have spoken with Fallon and he accepts the situation.  You should get 
Lady Arwen’s betrothed ready to travel for we are leaving.”  Haldir did not 
wait for an answer before marching off to attend to his own travel 
preparations.

“He will make a quicker recovery in Lorien.”  Boromir suggested as we 
carefully lifted Aragorn to his feet.  “No doubt he will be much comforted 
to see the little ones well and safe.”  That was certainly true but I could not 
help but wonder to myself how well Aragorn would respond when he 
heard how his hosts had treated Gimli. Nor had I forgotten my own 
commitment to the dwarf.  There was no guarantee that we would find true 
sanctuary in the Golden Wood.

As careful as we were it was impossible to help Aragorn mount without 
aggravating his injuries.  I winced in sympathy each time he was jostled.  
Seeing my beloved’s misery I could not help but resent Haldir and his rigid 
allegiance to his own agenda.  Once my ranger was settled I mounted 
behind him so that I could hold him more securely.  My beloved had not 
shown any particular interest in our travel preparations and now he rested 
against me with seemingly little concern for his surroundings.  Even so, I 
suspected he understood more of what was going on than any other would 
in his place.  After Fallon and Boromir mounted they took up close 
flanking positions by me and Aragorn and we set off in Haldir’s wake.
*
I had wanted to spend the time on the way to Lothlorien considering what I 
should do next but I found I could concentrate on nothing save the man I 
held securely against me.  Unpredictable as the future was the nearness of 
Aragorn gave me a renewed sense of optimism.  I felt an inkling of my old 
sense of invulnerability reassert itself.  Thus, it was I had no real idea how 
I would proceed once I satisfied myself that Aragorn was well on the way 
to recovery.  It was still a mystery to me how I would arrange Gimli’s 
release when we arrived once more in the Golden Wood.

Haldir had disappeared the moment we entered Lady Galadriel’s demesne, 
leaving his horse with only a whispered ‘thanks’ to find his equine 
companions.  The other elves left at a more gradual pace.  Only Fallon 
remained to give me and Boromir assistance.  We had just dismounted 
when the serenity of Lorien was pierced by shrieks of joy.  “You’re back!  
You’ve done it, you’ve done it.”  Merry exclaimed hurtling toward us 
accompanied by his three kinsmen.  Smiling I moved to protect Aragorn in 
fear that the hobbits might have difficulty stopping their momentum before 
running into us.  To my astonishment, however, there was a fifth figure 
hurrying toward us moving with a bit more dignity if no less speed.

“Gimli!” I shouted surprise and relief warring in my expression.  Our eyes 
met and I was on the verge of asking what had happened but Gimli cast his 
eyes toward Aragorn in warning.  I nodded.  Explanations could wait a 
while.  There was no point in distressing the ranger over troubles that had 
apparently- miraculously resolved.

Then the hobbits caught up to us and everyone was talking at once.  Fallon, 
uncomfortable with so great an outpouring of emotion, had hurriedly 
retreated several steps and now watched from a safe distance.  Boromir and 
I remained on either side of Aragorn, guarding the man from an excess of 
hobbit enthusiasm and thus bearing the brunt of their affection ourselves.  
Small arms came around my waist.  My free hand was seized and pressed 
tightly.  Boromir was similarly surrounded.  When no one else was 
available the hobbits hugged each other, giddy with happiness that 
Aragorn, Boromir and I and had been restored to them.  Also Gimli’s 
release, though how and when that had been accomplished was still 
unknown to me, could only add to the celebration.  Since Aragorn was not 
able to bend down to the hobbits’ level, Boromir lifted each one in turn so 
that the ranger could embrace each of his charges.  Despite my beloved’s 
best effort I could tell that fatigue was quickly overcoming the brave front 
the man strove to show the hobbits.

“I’m so glad, so very glad.”  Frodo cried, after he had been gently returned 
to the ground.

“We are all together again, the Fellowship reunited.”  Pippin chirped 
happily but the instant the words left his mouth his face fell.  “Except for 
Gandalf, of course.  Gandalf is still missing.”

“I wouldn’t worry on his account, young hobbit.”  Gimli said clapping 
Pippin on the shoulder.  “He’ll turn up when he is ready.  Wizards work 
according to their own way and there is no explaining it.”  With these 
words Pippin threw off some of his dejection but the reminder of the 
wizard sobered us.

“If I may say so, Mr. Strider looks as though he could do with a lie down.”  
Sam interjected peering at Aragorn worriedly.  Suddenly everyone was a 
flurry with concern for though Aragorn had smiled and seemed aware of 
his surroundings he had not spoken and Boromir and I held almost all of 
his weight.

“There are a few rooms set aside for those especially in need of rest and 
contemplation.”  Fallon put in stepping from behind the small tree where 
he had taken cover.  So we all traveled in procession, Fallon in the lead, 
Gimli bringing up the rear and Merry and Pippin running from one of us to 
another.

The room Fallon showed us was unusual among elfin dwelling for it was 
completely interior, without windows or terrace.  The walls were covered 
in heavy tapestries and a thick carpet covered the entire floor.  A large fire 
burned in the hearth across from a bed strewn with soft pillows and large 
goose down quilts.  For an elf, it was a study in asceticism.  As much as 
possible nature had been muffled so that a person could turn inward and 
meditate.  For a man, however, it would be a comfortable place to 
convalesce and I was pleased.

Aragorn was quickly settled in bed and it brought a smile to my lips to 
watch everyone fuss over him.  Sam had immediately set a pot of water 
over the fire while he told Fallon about the various home remedies that 
were sure to be the best thing for the exhausted human.  Fallon listened 
with bemusement, occasionally venturing advice.  Gimli supervised Merry 
and Pippin as they  plumped every pillow, adjusted every cushion and 
straightened every blanket in the room.  Boromir went about the room 
poking at the furniture and surreptitiously examining the wall hangings.  I 
don’t know what he expected to find: evidence of some demonic charm, a 
hidden entrance, a secret hiding place?  How ever silly his fears, I 
respected the concern that motivated the blond warrior.  Frodo had taken 
up a place near Aragorn and he divided his attention between Sam and the 
ranger.  I, myself, stood beside the bed and fondly smoothed my beloved’s 
hair as everyone bustled about.

The man bore the attention stoically, in part to please the hobbits but also 
because he had little strength to object.  The small discomfort and slight 
embarrassment that he did show, however, convinced me more than 
anything else that Aragorn would indeed be all right.  All the activity, 
though was keeping my ranger from much needed rest so it was decided 
that we would take turns sitting with Aragorn while the rest of us talked 
elsewhere.

“We’ll stay with him, first off.”  Sam volunteered stirring whatever 
concoction he and Fallon had managed to produce.  “If Mr. Frodo is of the 
same opinion.”  Frodo looked at his friend and nodded his assent.

“But Frodo don’t you want to hear about the rescue and how Boromir and 
Legolas managed it all?”  Pippin demanded, fondly giving his dear 
Boromir first billing.

“They succeeded.  ‘Tis enough.”  Frodo responded without much 
inflection.  The ringbearer’s lack of curiosity clearly troubled the young 
hobbit and he looked as though he wanted to pursue the matter.

“We’ll hear all about it soon enough, won’t we Mr. Frodo.  The story will 
be no worse for a few hours wait.”  Sam interjected, protecting his master 
from further questions.  Pippin nodded but his expression was vaguely 
troubled.  A smile broke out quickly though when Merry took his arm and 
led him after Gimli who had exited with a nod of farewell to Aragorn, 
Fallon having already departed.  

I would have preferred to remain with Aragorn with and especially without 
the ringbearer and his faithful companion but I knew Frodo’s safety had 
weighed heavily upon my beloved ever since we had been separated from 
him in Moria.  With the fragile hobbit within sight I knew Aragorn would 
more readily find rest.  Also the mystery of Gimli’s sudden freedom was 
one I wished to solve as soon as possible.  Lastly, as the only elf in the 
fellowship I saw it as my duty to remain available should Galadriel or 
Celebron have occasion to rouse themselves and wish to speak with us.

I bent my head close to Aragorn’s ear and assured him that I would return 
soon and should he want me for anything he had only to send Sam to fetch 
me and I would be there.  Having spoken thus I wrapped my beloved in a 
loose embrace, gentling touching my forehead to his.  When I rose I saw 
that Boromir’s eyes were once again upon me.  He wore the same 
expression he had worn before when witnessing my affection for the 
ranger.  There was annoyance, uncertainty and more I could not identify in 
his gaze.  Without acknowledging anything unusual in my own behavior or 
his I followed the hobbit cousins from the room.  A few seconds later I 
heard the dampened but still unmistakable sound of the blond warrior’s 
footsteps following.
*
“Well Gimli, I am glad to see you in better circumstances than when last 
we met.”  I said settling next to the dwarf in a small clearing where the 
fellowship had regrouped.  “I am eager to hear what happened?”

Boromir turned curious eyes upon the dwarf and even the hobbits who 
must have already heard the story sat with inquisitive expressions.  Gimli 
raised his hand and made a gesture as though he were pushing our attention 
away from himself.  “There is little enough to tell.”  The dwarf said 
gruffly.

I thought for a moment the stubborn dwarf was going to force me to press 
him but after a moment he continued on his own.  “Perhaps an hour before 
you returned a dark elf, I thought for a moment it was Elrond, but he 
identified himself as Kalebron came to me.”

“Lord Celeborn?  The lady’s husband?”  I asked for no elfish name could 
have such an ugly sound, though I was still uncertain for the Lord Celeborn 
did not look in the least like Lord Elrond.

“Yes, now that you say so the name had more of that sort of fluffy sound to 
it.”  Gimli said, pleased to have achieved greater accuracy in a detail.  His 
smile diminished, somewhat when he saw my expression growing ever 
more perturbed.

“In any case,” the dwarf hastened to continue, “This Kal- this elf said that 
he was master of this place and that his lady has ‘Seen’ our quest.  And this 
lady had said that the quest was of perilous import and that all our hopes 
rested upon a knife’s edge.  And that all effort must be bent to the quest’s 
success and so on.  Then he said some more in his own language and. . .”  
Here Gimli trailed off letting his hands describe the idea of a thicket 
parting.

“After those damn vines were out of my way I could see the elf-lord more 
clearly.  I’ll admit that I was perhaps the least bit apprehensive for I am a 
creature of blood and bone, stone and earth and there was much of the 
other-world in the elf’s words and it did not sit so easily with me.  As it 
turned out, however, I had nothing to fear.  The elf merely invited me to 
rejoin the hobbits and partake of the best hospitality of his home.  So in my 
habitual elegant fashion I thanked him and said something suitably 
chivalrous about his lady and then I went and found the hobbits at 
luncheon.”  Gimli concluded.

“Elevenses!”  Corrected Merry, slightly exasperated.

“I must appear slow indeed, young hobbit, if you find my terminology 
faulty even unto the third retelling in an hour.”  Gimli said, his tone 
exceedingly dry.
“Don’t be discouraged.”  Pippin soothed.  “Luncheon comes after 
elevenses except on feast days when we have eleven-thirtysies.  It’s can’t 
be easy when you’ve lived so long on just three meals a day you can’t 
expect to learn it all at once.  Just keep at it.”  Pippin concluded this 
exhortation by delivering a reassuring pat to Gimli’s back.  Boromir was 
already chuckling quietly while I had been struggling to hold an 
appropriately detached expression but at Gimli’s grave nod Boromir 
laughed outright and I smiled behind my hand. 

“Now, you must tell us how you fared.” Merry demanded excitedly.  “Did 
you have to fight?  Did the elves shoot their arrows?  Why was Aragorn so 
exhausted?  He wasn’t hurt was he?  You see where I was cut on the arm 
before the dwarves came?  That’s almost healed now it doesn’t hurt a bit, 
see?”  Here Pippin helpfully poked his cousin on the white bandage 
wrapping Merry’s arm.  “It hardly feels like anything even when Pippin 
tries really hard.”  I could not help but notice that Merry still withdrew his 
arm from Pippin’s striking range when the younger hobbit appeared ready 
to test the truth of his recovering cousin’s statement.  “Anyway, you must 
tell us everything: From beginning to end.  Legolas we still haven’t heard 
what happened once you and Aragorn left with the dwarves.  We want to 
hear everything.”

Boromir, Gimli and I shared a bemused look.  I had no desire to speak of 
the time I had spent in the caves alone with Aragorn and the dwarves but it 
seemed if I didn’t say something before Merry regained his breath I 
wouldn’t get the chance to say anything at all.  So I told them about the 
rescue and the last confrontation with Dafyd.  Everyone had noticed that I 
had not fulfilled Merry’s request that I report everything from the time 
Aragorn and I had left the fellowship but no one repeated the request.

When I had told the story completely through I was put through a very 
thorough questioning from the hobbits.  Gimli said nothing through the 
account but his jaw was locked tight and his eyes burned with interest.  
Then the same story was demanded from Boromir who repeated the events 
using much the same wording that I had done.  I grew concerned as the 
hobbits began the interrogation of Boromir that another retelling would be 
required.  Thus it was, I was not altogether unhappy to see the approach of 
Lord Celeborn and Haldir.

I rose in greeting and everyone else now alert to the newcomers broke off 
talking and likewise came to their feet. Lord Celeborn’s face was 
completely inscrutable but Haldir who walked beside and a little behind his 
lord seemed almost flustered.  “Welcome Legolas of Mirkwood and 
welcome gentlemen.”  Celeborn haled.

Even Gimli responded to this overture with something that could be 
interpreted as a nod or perhaps even a slight bow.  Only Boromir made no 
acknowledgment but stood watching the pair of elves stonily.  Celeborn 
took in the various reactions impassively.  Haldir seemed distracted.  He 
did not even seem to have caught Boromir’s rudeness.

“I would likewise greet the ringbearer, his servant and Arwen’s betrothed 
but I thought it best not to disturb them now as Haldir tells me Aragorn has 
great need of rest.”  Celeborn continued smoothly.

“I thank you for your consideration, lord.”  I said struggling to stifle the 
resentment I always felt every time my beloved was mentioned as though 
his only significance was his connection to Arwen.  “We come to you all 
of us in urgent need of respite.  We are grateful for this sanctuary and we 
would also like to express our gratitude to the Lady Galadriel.”  I said as 
courteously as I could.

“Be assured my lady is exceedingly desirous of an opportunity to meet 
those tasked with so great a mission.  She has, however, spent many long 
hours in a dangerous realm seeking for aught that might be of aid in this 
struggle and now she must rest.”  I tensed at these words from Celeborn for 
they seemed to me likely to elicit something snide from Boromir but 
happily the blond man kept silent, though he did look skeptical.

“We are at the lady’s service whenever she may wish to receive us.”  I 
intoned, uncertain as to Celeborn’s purpose and somewhat alarmed by 
Haldir’s agitation.

“In the meantime a quite unprecedented circumstance has arisen.  It is a 
matter upon which, I believe, master Gimli would be of enormous 
assistance. May I makes so bold as to beg a moment of your time, master 
dwarf?”  Celeborn’s elegant manner did not alter in the slightest even as 
the eyes of his audience widened and mouths dropped open while Haldir 
looked as though he had a terrible itch on the end of his nose and was 
trying desperately not to scratch.

After a silence that was somewhat longer than was strictly polite Gimli 
regained his wits.  “I would be glad to offer my host whatever little help I 
may be to him.  Only, during this journey Legolas has taken it upon 
himself to reveal much of elfish manners and customs, though these are not 
natural to me.  Thus, I would be glad if Legolas would accompany us now 
to ensure that there is proper understanding between us.  I would not wish 
to unknowingly offend my gracious host.”  Gimli observed.  I felt an 
unexpected thrill of pride.  I did not believe Celeborn could have any 
mischief in mind but whatever the elf lord wanted it certainly must appear 
suspicious to one who had been treated as Gimli had been.  Rather than 
refuse outright, however, Gimli trusted in me as a protector and a witness.  

“Most certainly, if that is your wish.”  Celeborn agreed easily, turning.  “If 
you would come with me, please.”

Ginli did not hesitate but followed Celeborn and the glowering Haldir 
without so much as a backward glance.  I did spare a look for the hobbits 
and Boromir in case the hobbits panicked or the man took it into his head 
to cause difficulty.  The hobbits, though, they had been agitated when 
Celeborn had first made his request appeared quite relaxed now that I 
would be with the dwarf.  Boromir who had also clearly mistrusted 
Celeborn now only looked impatient.  Satisfied that neither man nor 
hobbits were about to precipitate a crisis I hurried after Gimli, curiosity 
foremost in my mind.
*
Celeborn led us to the outskirts of the Golden Wood, a place just within 
Lorien’s western border.  Haldir’s annoyance had been steadily increasing 
as we walked along and I was anxious to know what had thrown the elf 
into such a confusion.  I guessed the answer was near when I glimpsed a 
group of elfin archers standing in a circle, bows drawn and aimed toward 
the center.  At Haldir’s curt command several elves stepped aside revealing 
a pair of very frightened dwarves.

“They do not understand Quenya nor Sindarin nor the Common Tongue 
nor any of a dozen other languages known here.”  Celeborn explained to 
Gimli.  “I hoped you might be able to discover what has brought these two 
into an elfin domain.”   Gimli, no doubt as surprised as everyone else, 
nodded dumbly before pulling himself together and calling out a greeting 
to the pair.  

The two dwarves were huddled together staring glassy-eyed at the forest of 
metal tipped arrows directed at them from every angle.  The pair had no 
armor to speak of.  They wore simple rough spun cloth and their arms 
clinked with numerous bracelets of various metals.  Both wore long beards 
but they were braided in a much simpler fashion than Gimli was 
accustomed to wear.  They had axes thrown through belt loops but again 
they lacked the intricate designs that adorned all of Gimli’s weaponry.  
What two such creatures could possibly be doing here I could not imagine.

There was something else about their appearance that did not accord with 
my expectation of how a dwarf should look.  This expectation, of course, 
was based exclusively upon my observation of Gimli and a little of Dafyd.  
It took a moment before I realized what exactly it was that I found so odd: 
It was the expression of terror on the dwarves’ faces.  I had seen Gimli and 
Dafyd angry quite often.  I had also seen them shocked and sickened with 
grief.  Occasionally I had even seen them amused but I had never seen 
them afraid.  I suppose I had just assumed that fear did not register upon a 
dwarfen face.

I thought I could not have been more surprised but I was proven wrong as I 
looked closer and I saw that I had been mistaken at first and there were 
actually three dwarves. One of the figures clutched a blanket to his chest 
which I noticed had started to wriggle and cry.  Then I saw unbelievably 
tiny arms emerge from the folds of cloth and grasp at the beard of the of 
the dwarf holding the blanket.  Fascinated I moved a step closer.  The babe 
could not have been very old but there was already the light dusting of a 
new beard on its chin to match the little tufts of hair upon its head.

When the couple realized that there was another dwarf present and 
addressing them in their own language relief flooded their faces.  They 
would have run to Gimli and perhaps thrown themselves at his feet had not 
the ominous sound of string being drawn tight and yew wood bending 
frozen them in their tracks.  Gimli called out again and for awhile there 
was no sound but the guttural and incomprehensible noise of rapid fire 
dwarfish conversation.

“What is it?  Why are they here?  What is going on?”  Haldir demanded, 
frustration getting the better of him.  I gave Lorien’s guardian a pointed 
look and he took a deep breath then repeated his question in the common 
tongue.

Gimli spoke a word or two more then switched to the common tongue 
without taking his attention from the couple.  “You can lower your 
weapons for a start.  These are simple quarry people.  Even if they would 
they can do you no harm.  Unless you suspect them of keeping an orc 
concealed in the child’s blankets”  Gimli said not bothering to conceal his 
annoyance that Haldir and Celeborn were essentially holding a young 
family at arrow point.  Celeborn nodded his assent and signaled the patrol 
but even though the bows were lowered no elf withdrew from his 
menacing position.

“What are they doing here?”  Haldir repeated obstinately.

“Give them a moment.”  Gimli snapped.  “They are frightened and I 
believe they have traveled far with little to sustain them.”  At this last 
remark Gimli turned from the couple and raised a bushy eyebrow at Haldir.  
Haldir, however, declined to take the hint and returned the dwarf’s gaze 
levelly.

“Haldir,” Celeborn said softly, “would you please arrange for some food 
and drink to brought here for these people.”

Somehow Haldir managed not to scowl as he went to fulfill his lord’s 
command.  If it had not been for my own recent experience I might have 
felt sympathy for Haldir.  After all, had he not become accustomed over 
the centuries to a relatively predictable routine, a routine undisturbed by  
hungry hobbits, anxious men, mysterious dwarves and importunate elves.  
As it was, however, I thought Haldir could have borne his troubles with a 
bit more fortitude.

Gimli and the other dwarves continued their conversation.  I looked on 
feeling quite superfluous until Haldir appeared with several other elves 
carrying food.  Though they were obviously hungry the dwarves looked 
suspiciously at the meat, bread and fruit.  I believe they would have refused 
except that Gimli managed to convince them it was safe.  Once they had 
started, however, the two dwarves ate voraciously.  While the dwarves 
were distracted by the meal Gimli turned to us scratching his bearded chin 
and looking unhappy.  Celeborn asked nothing, only raised an inquiring 
eyebrow and waited for Gimli to speak.

“It’s a bad business, a bad business all around.”  Gimli began, drawing an 
exasperated sigh from Haldir which the dwarf ignored.  

“These are quarry people from the east.”  At our look of incomprehension 
Gimli amended, “Um, country folk, you might say, simple people- far from 
the centers of power.  They have been moving west with their three young 
ones as Sauron’s growing influence has made their former home 
dangerous.  A few days ago they saw the markings of a tunnel entrance and 
thought to rest a few days in safety.  Those two took the little one, who is 
too young to be long without his mother, in search of a village to barter for 
a bit of food.  They searched for the better part of a day but as I’m sure you 
know there is nothing for several leagues besides Lorien and they were too 
frightened to seek aid here.”  Gimli paused a moment to glance at the two 
dwarf parents who even as they ate looked about cautiously and quickly 
dropped their heads when an elf caught their gaze.

“On their way back to their older children,” Gimli resumed, “a wolf caught 
their scent.  They ran then managed to fend him off with stones but by then 
it was dark and they were a little lost.  They did not come to the tunnel 
where they had hidden their children until just a few hours ago.”  Here 
Gimli paused again collecting himself.  Everyone’s expression was grim 
for it was obvious what the dwarf had to say next.

“They found the tunnel completely obliterated.  They came here in 
desperation over their children.  They want to know if you can tell them 
what may have happened or if you have seen or heard anything of their 
dwarflings.”  We had all known it was coming but it made the hearing no 
easier.  We had buried two children beneath tons of rock and dirt last night 
and this morning.

Gimli sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead.  “Saw you any sign of the 
little ones before you brought down that tunnel?”  He asked Haldir, 
without much hope.

Gimli had expected a quick negative but the look of shock and guilt on 
Haldir’s face caused the dwarf’s eyes to narrow.  “You did check, didn’t 
you?”  Haldir could not seem to answer.  

Anger began reddening Gimli’s face“For the gods’ sake you didn’t just-”

“Legolas looked.”  Haldir finally managed to say cutting Gimli off mid 
sentence.  “Legolas went down into the tunnel and checked.  He didn’t see 
anything, just a goblin.”  Haldir finished hurriedly.  The anger left Gimli as 
quickly as it had come and the dwarf appeared suddenly very tired.  

“If there were goblins skulking about then the young ones had little chance 
from the start.”  Gimli mused his voice a little distant.  Then, suddenly, he 
focused upon me with an almost plaintive expression.  “Their children are 
almost certainly dead and I must tell them so.  How am I to do that?”  I had 
no answer for my friend and I was shamefully relieved when he looked 
away and seemed to mentally shake himself.

“Please tell them,” Celeborn said gently, “that they are welcome to any 
supplies they may need and that we will see they reach the next village 
safely.”

“Thank you.”  Gimli murmured a bit gruffly.  Then he squared his 
shoulders and went over to the dwarf couple who were still picking at the 
remains of their meal.  Celeborn departed rather more quickly then was his 
wont.  Haldir too had disappeared as had many of the bow wielding patrol.  
I suspected the several that remained were to fulfill Celeborn’s promise of 
supplies and safe conduct.  I, myself, wanted nothing so much as to leave 
also but I forced myself to stay and to watch as the two dwarves wept and 
swayed with grief.
*
“Come, Legolas.  Let us return to the others.”  Gimli said once the dwarves 
had gone their way with a few elves for escort.  “I could do with some 
fellowship.”

“You go ahead.”  I answered still watching the direction in which I had last 
seen the dwarf couple.  “I think I should be alone for a time.”

“Your pardon, elf, but if you want to worry our already anxious friends by 
going off to brood in moody isolation somewhere you can bloody well go 
explain it to them yourself.”  Gimli snapped impatiently.

“Sorry.”  was all I managed to say as I prepared to make my way back to 
our group.

“Legolas.”  The dwarf called out stopping me by laying a hand on my arm.  
“You know that there is no blame in any of this for you.  It was an awful 
thing but it was no one’s fault.”

“I was scared.  I ran.  Another few steps and I might have found those 
children but my fear mastered me.”  I said without looking at the dwarf.

“And you might have looked for hours without finding anything.  You 
looked despite your fear the rest was with the gods.”  Gimli spoke with his 
hands crossed over his chest as though preparing for one of our arguments.

“The gods never showed themselves to be cruel before.”  I whispered, 
feeling sorry for myself.

“Yes, well, welcome to the world the rest of have to live in.”  Gimli 
snapped, his jaw tightening.

“You are angry.”  I stated.

“You have that effect upon me from time to time, I confess, but I am not 
angry because I think there was anymore you could have or should have 
done.”  When I made no response Gimli made another effort.  “If you’re 
too addled to see reason then put the matter before the ranger he will tell 
you the same thing.”

“I dare not see him, at least not until I have had time to think-” I broke off, 
suddenly bereft of the energy to complete my first explanation.  Instead I 
let words flow out of me without bothering to consider how they would be 
received.  “I wanted to do such great deeds for him.  I wanted him to watch 
me win every battle and know that I did it all for him, because of him.  I 
wanted a thousand heroic acts to lay at his feet in token of my love but. . . 
but it didn’t turn out that way.”  I knew that I was mired in self-pity and I 
hated myself for it but I felt trapped.

Poor Gimli looked terribly uncomfortable but there was also sympathy in 
his gaze as he took my arm: “Come along, elf.  You will feel better after 
food and rest and time spent with your friends.”  I allowed the dwarf to 
pull me along but I did not believe him.
*
I sat with my back against a pillar watching the door to Aragorn’s room.  
Hours had come and gone since Gimli had led me here.  The dwarf had 
tried to take me in to see my. . . my. . .  Aragorn but I had balked.  I could 
not explain why I had refused to go except that I had become afraid of 
feeling.  My emotions had been bruised and any sensation, even joy, was 
going to hurt.  The closer I had come to the door the more I began to feel 
dizzy, like the world was spinning away from me.  It was better to remain 
safely numb and detached.  That was the only way I could keep control.

I had told Gimli that I was content sitting here, on the terrace, within easy 
view of the forest and the door to Aragorn’s room.  The dwarf had 
grumbled but as there was no moving me save by force he had no choice 
but to relent.  Eventually Sam and Frodo emerged from their attendance 
upon the ranger and Merry and Pippin took their place.  Pippin, first asking 
timidly, if I would rather take the next turn.  When I shook my head ‘no’ I 
noticed that Boromir looked surprised and perhaps also a little pleased but 
I did not dwell upon this.  I found it difficult to concentrate on anything for 
very long.

I listened as Sam recounted for Gimli and Boromir’s sake Aragorn’s 
progress.  I smiled faintly as the meticulous hobbit enumerated the 
spoonfuls of soup the ranger had been fed and the number and duration of 
the naps he had taken. My attention, however, was diverted as a flock of 
birds took flight heading toward the west.  Occasionally, Gimli or Sam 
would try to engage me in conversation but I did not feel like talking and 
they soon tired of my single syllable answers. 

When night came Gimli, Boromir, Sam and Frodo tucked themselves into 
sheltered alcoves to prepare for sleep.  I remained where I was.  Somehow 
I was certain that sleep was something I had to avoid and I did not question 
this instinct.  While the others settled down I watched a line of ants carry 
away bits of the fruit and bread someone, probably Sam, had put in front of 
me.  They were so intent upon their mission that they took no notice of me 
or the larger world around them.  They could conceive of nothing greater 
than the almost mechanical retrieval of food for their colony.  I might have 
envied them.
*
I saw the lady come in the middle of the night.  As she passed me I heard 
her musical voice drift into my mind:  “You are a most faithful guardian, 
Legolas, to go without sleep.  Arwen must be glad of your diligence in 
keeping her treasure safe.”  It occurred to me that this should irritate me 
but the same instinct which told me to shun sleep now told me to think not 
upon the lady’s words.  By this time Galadriel had passed me and I was 
glad.

When next I saw her, a few moments later, Galadriel did not so much as 
look in my direction, her attention obviously elsewhere.  Frodo followed in 
her footsteps almost woodenly as if led by some other will than his own.  I 
considered pursuing the two but ultimately I decided that my duty was 
here.  Thus, I suffered the lady and the ringbearer to go on their way.  
Hours later Frodo returned alone.  Tears marked the hobbit’s face.  Rather 
than return to his own bed the ringbearer crept to Aragorn’s room and 
slipped in.

Frodo spent most of the morning in Aragorn’s room while the others came 
and went on their own schedules.  Aragorn was often a topic of 
conversation and while I did not participate I liked to listen as his progress 
was discussed.  Once again Sam placed food before me but I let Pippin 
have it when no one else was watching.  Besides a few questions from 
nervous hobbits I was not much interfered with.  I liked to imagine I was a 
rock in a great turbulent river which flowed around me but did not dislodge 
me.
*
“Are you trying to put down roots?”  Gimli demanded, glowering down 
upon me.  “Get up and do something, will you.  You are making my beard 
curl.”

I blinked up at the angry dwarf.  It seemed to be late afternoon, I must have 
lost track of time.  “What would you like me to do?”  I asked.

“Anything.  I don’t care.  Pick a bouquet, help Sam scour the pots, you can 
even sing if you like.  Just stop sitting there like a giant elf-shaped lump.”  
Gimli was speaking very loudly and he had lowered his face so that it was 
inches from mine.  I wanted him to stop shouting at me but I couldn’t quite 
make out what exactly it was he was telling me to do.

“You want me to wash the plates?”  I asked for clarification.

“You are doing this deliberately, aren’t you.”  Gimli accused.

“Let him be.  He’s not hurting anything.”  Boromir interjected.

“It’s not healthy.”  Gimli retorted, straightening.

“He’s probably just thinking. Leave him to himself.  He’ll be fine.”  
Boromir said.  I sighed inwardly.  I could let the argument fade into the 
background noise now.

“But he hasn’t been eating.  That is never good.”  Merry ventured.

“I doubt it is as significant for elves as it would be for hobbits, my dear 
Merry.”  Boromir said fondly.

“Damn it, you’ve let him drift away again.”  Gimli complained snapping 
his fingers alarmingly close to my nose.  “Wake up!”

“Get your fingers out of my face.”  I demanded, annoyance suddenly 
surging through me.

“That’s my elf.”  Gimli beamed, pleased.  My anger, however, had already 
gone.  I glimpsed what lay before me if I did not seek shelter immediately.  
Visions swirled before me of the torrents of fear, guilt, shame, anguish and 
a hundred other fervid emotion that would flood through me, ripping me 
apart.  I fled before the agony of feeling.  I retreated once more into the 
safety of impassivity.

“Legolas!  Legolas!”  Once more the short fingers snapped but this time I 
was inured to it and I did not react.  Eventually the dwarf left off and 
simply studied me.

“Legolas, Aragorn has asked to see you.  He wonders at your absence.  
Will you not go to see him?”  Gimli began almost maliciously but he must 
have seen something change in my face for his voice softened and the last 
question was asked almost gently.

“I cannot.”  I whispered miserably.  “Tell him, tell him I beg to be excused 
for just a while longer.  Please, my friend, I cannot see him.”  I saw pity in 
the dwarf’s eyes and I thought he would relent but then his features became 
stern once more.

“You can come on your own or I can carry you.  It makes no nevermind to 
me.”  Gimli stated darkly.  I quailed, my eyes darting about seeking an 
escape.

“Gimli, a moment.”  Boromir had bounded over to the dwarf and now 
urged him back from me a few steps.  Then the man leaned down and 
spoke in a whisper: “I understand what you are trying to do and your 
concern for the elf does you credit but think of Aragorn.  He is ill.  He is 
already anxious about the elf.  If he sees Legolas in this state it will drive 
him to distraction.  It’s not fair, not to Aragorn and not to the rest of us.  
There are problems beyond a sulking elf that need attention.”

“I can see your point but there is something genuinely wrong with Legolas.  
He has been sorely tried these past few days.  He has no experience of 
pain, helplessness and death.  Legolas has never had to deal with such 
things; he does not know how.  I fear for him.”  Gimli whispered back, 
glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t disagree but despite his looks Legolas is full grown.  I am sorry 
that events have been hard upon him but he is not the only one nor the 
worst off.  Let the man have a day of peace.  Surely we are not so needy 
that we cannot go a single day without running to Aragorn with our 
problems.”  Boromir argued.

“I think Aragorn would neither find nor desire peace while the elf is 
disturbed.  He will not thank us for concealing the elf’s need from him.”  
Gimli replied.

Boromir’s look became cold, so cold that even I, insulated from the world 
as I had become, could feel the chill.  “Surely, they are friends but have we 
not all become friends?  Aragorn is under no greater obligation to this elf 
than to the rest of us; is he?”

Gimli looked uncomfortable.  He started to speak then stopped himself.  
Then he tried again:  “I suppose we could wait a bit longer.  Legolas may 
just need time as you say.”  I noticed even if Boromir did not that the 
dwarf left the man’s question go unanswered.
*
It was night once more.  I was growing fond of the night for I was left to 
myself.  Sam, sleeping curled at his master’s feet, wasn’t trying to feed me.  
Merry and Pippin gave up trying to engage me in conversation and Gimli 
stopped scowling and muttering about ‘bloody minded elves’.  I could 
listen to the quiet of the forest which was so much better than the silence of 
the caves and let my mind flit about as it would.

“Legolas.”  All the fellowship, especially the hobbits had been in and out 
of Aragorn’s room so often that I had stopped keeping track.  Thus, though 
I had seen Gimli go in an hour before I thought nothing of it.  Now the 
dwarf stood in the doorway steadying Aragorn who was also leaning 
heavily upon a tall stick one of the hobbits had found for him.  I squeezed 
my eyes tightly shut.  

“Legolas, I would like to talk with you.”  Gods, his voice was so heart-
wrenchingly gentle.  Biting my lip, I forced my eyes to open and look once 
more upon my beloved’s face.  He looked tired and worried and still 
painfully gaunt but there was color in his cheeks and he stood straight and 
proud despite the stick and Gimli’s support.

Unable to either laugh or weep I simply nodded jerkily and rose to my feet.
*
Gimli offered his shoulder to help support Aragorn but the ranger waved 
him back.  I approached shakily but when I came near enough Aragorn 
grasped my arm.  After that I carried myself with steadiness and something 
even of elfish grace.  I was not two steps into the room when Gimli 
departed closing the door behind him.  The click as the door was drawn to 
alarmed me and some part of me clamored for escape but with Aragorn in 
need of my arm I wasn’t going to go anywhere.

With my assistance Aragorn seated himself upon the bed in such a way 
that he could be comfortable.  When he was settled he took my arm again 
and asked me to meet his eyes.  Wrapping my arms tightly around myself I 
complied.

“My dear Legolas you are so deeply wounded and I have not been there to 
tend your hurts.  I’m so sorry.”  Aragorn spoke sadly when he looked into 
my eyes.

“Not I, I am not wounded.  It is you who were injured and I- I did not come 
but- but I wanted to.”  ‘Then why didn’t you’ An internal voice accused 
but there was no accusation in the early-morning-grey eyes of my beloved.

“My poor elf, do you imagine that physical pain is the worst that may be 
inflicted?  Have pity upon yourself and upon those who love you and do 
not let your wounds fester until you are poisoned against this world.”  
Aragorn’s voice was impossibly gentle though it sliced through my 
defenses as easily as a sharp blade cut through flesh.  It would not be long 
now before I would be left with nothing between me and the horror of the 
last few days.  I could have left then.  I could have gone to the Grey 
Havens and the Undying Lands where I would not have had to deal with 
tunnels, darkness and the suffering of innocents.  I could not deny that a 
part of me longed to go, to quit this world of grief and pain forever but 
Aragorn was here and this world with all its misery was better than any 
heaven so long as my beloved remained within it.

“Help me.”  I begged as I started to shake uncontrollably.

“I’ve got you, my Sunlight.  I won’t let you go.  I will hold you.”  Aragorn 
reassured pressing me urgently against him.

“They were babies, babies buried alive.  No light, no air, no one to cry to,  
no one to hold their hand and tell them not to be afraid, only the 
unmoveable rock and the crushing darkness.  Alone and silent was how 
they died.  Alone and silent is how I will die because Dafyd cursed me.  He 
cursed me because I killed his father and sister because I was afraid.  He 
will not forgive me.  He will laugh when all the light is gone out of my 
world.  Oh Elbereth, oh Eru, they will take you away from me, my hope.  I 
will have nothing when my hope is gone and then I will dire true death and 
never see you again all because I was afraid.  I am afraid.  Ah, don’t let me 
go, don’t let me go. . .”  I babbled for hours.  I don’t remember all I said 
much of it was completely incoherent, some of it was just the half truths 
and ill formed fantasy of a suffering mind.  Through it all Aragorn held me 
and I knew even in my fogged understanding that I would not lose myself 
as long as he was there.

I wept long after I had run out of words.  I sobbed bitterly for the babes in 
the tunnel.  I wept for Frodo carrying his awesome burden.  I wept for Sam 
who could not take Frodo’s place and shield his master and for Merry and 
Pippin who were far from home.  I shed tears for Arwen who could not be 
at the center of events and who would lose her family.  I cried for Gimli 
and his lost kin and for Boromir and his people.  I moaned for Aragorn 
struggling beneath the expectations of so many.  I keened low and long for 
Mithrandir and his uncertain fate and I cried for my father for whom the 
wonders of the world had become dull and trivial.  Most of all, though, I 
cried for myself and all that I had endured.  I wept also for the centuries I 
had wasted concerned only with what was immediately before me.  I nearly 
choked mourning for all the things I did not know and had not considered 
worth learning.  There were not enough tears in the world for all that I 
wanted to cry for.

My beloved rocked me back in forth crooning quietly.  I had caused him 
some discomfort while wrestling with the aftermath of so much trauma.  I 
had flailed helplessly and been racked by tremors and I feared that I had 
hurt my beloved as he struggled to keep me still.  I had tried to apologize 
for this as soon as my tears let up a little but Aragorn had only held me 
tighter and told me that I had held him through Fallon’s surgery even 
though it had been painful to do so and did I think he could do any less for 
me?  Shaking my head ‘no’ I pressed against him and he resumed 
murmuring softly.

“Am I all right, now?”  I asked after awhile.  For the first time since 
entering Moria I realized that I was truly sleepy not simply driven into 
slumber by fatigue.

I felt the rumble in Aragorn’s chest as he chuckled quietly.  “You are 
accustomed to speedy healing indeed, my Sunlight, but I think even with 
your resilience you must be a little patient.  Let yourself have time to 
reconcile yourself with all that has happened.  You must keep open counsel 
with your heart and deny yourself no comfort or gentleness that can be 
provided.  Do this and your natural powers of recovery will see you 
stronger than you were before we set forth upon this quest.”

“I think I am already a ways to becoming stronger than when I started 
because now I know there is a difference between confidence and 
ignorance.”  I sighed, only a little ruefully.

My beloved kissed the top of my head for answer. “Do you want to sleep, 
Legolas?  I would like very much to have you by me.”

“I could find no true rest anywhere but with you, my hope.”  I said, helping 
Aragorn to settle more comfortably in the bed then slipping beneath the 
blanket next to him.  I put my arms around his neck and in the next 
moment sleep came to me.
*
I lazed contentedly halfway between sleep and wakefulness.  Aragorn was 
beside me and I felt I could safely indulge in lethargy.  My beloved was 
stroking my hair as I sighed softly into his shoulder.

Suddenly I became aware of footsteps very close and then the doorknob 
turning.  I came fully awake just as Boromir entered the room.  “Aragorn, 
are you- Oh!”  Damn, I felt worry and anxiety seize hold of me.  “Sorry, I- 
Sorry.”  The man retreated hastily leaving the door open in his hurry to be 
gone.

“Boromir, wait!”  Aragorn called forgetting his injuries as he tried to rise.  
As soon as he stood his leg gave way beneath him and he only just 
managed to fall back on the bed rather than the floor.  Despite the pain, 
however, he reached for his stick intent upon going after the man.
“Be still.” I begged coming to my senses and taking a hold of Aragorn 
around his waist so he could not lever himself up.  “I- I will fetch him if 
you like but please be careful.”

“All right.  Thank you, Legolas.”  Aragorn replied releasing a deep pain 
filled breath and settling back a little.  I got up biting my lip but Aragorn 
caught my wrist before I could take a step.  “This is no great matter, my 
Sunlight.  Everything is all right.”  I nodded greatly relieved and went in 
pursuit of the blond warrior.
*
“Boromir.  Boromir!”  I called as the man of Gondor nearly sprinted away.  
“Boromir!”  I called one last time.  I did not relish the mental image of me 
running after the fleeing man. This was no great matter as Aragorn had 
said and I wanted to keep it as free of melodrama as possible.  Just as I was 
about to break into a reluctant jog.  Boromir stopped.  He did not turn but 
he stood with his back to me as I caught up to him at a more or less 
dignified pace.

“Aragorn would like to speak with you, Boromir.”  I said coming around to 
face the man.

“Mmh.”  

I did not know what to make of this sound.  I could not even tell if 
Boromir, standing rigidly fists and jaw clenched, had intended to make it.  
So I tried again: “Will you come and speak with him?”

The blond man did not answer but after a moment he turned and began 
walking back toward the room where Aragorn waited.  I was not sure what 
I should do so for lack of a better idea I followed him.
*
Aragorn had taken the time our absence presented to compose himself and 
assume as dignified a posture as his injuries would permit.  I was always 
amazed at how my beloved was able to change from a rough, dangerous, 
half mad man of the wild to authority and civilization personified and then 
back again in the blink of an eye.  In this case, the uncanny talent served 
my hope well for even I was taken aback upon entering the room and 
finding the king of men and lord of tomorrow seated impassively before 
me.

I thought perhaps I should go and leave the two to say what they would but 
as I drifted in the direction of the door my lord saw and called to me.  
“Legolas.”  Aragorn held out his hand to me and I went to him taking it.  
Still holding his hand I followed the gentle pressure of his fingers until I 
stood proudly at his side.

“Boromir, surely you knew that I love Legolas and that he loves me?”  
Aragorn asked softly seeking the other man’s eyes.

The angry defiance which Boromir betrayed in the thin line of his lips and 
the set of his shoulders melted away making him look vulnerable, almost 
lost.  “I- I was not certain.”  Came the careful reply.  It seemed to me that 
Boromir had gone to great lengths to protect his uncertainty but I kept this 
to myself.

“And now you are certain.”  It had not been a question but Boromir gave a 
desultory nod.

“During this journey I have gained great respect for you, Boromir.  You are 
a brave and fierce warrior but you are also capable of great compassion and 
self-sacrifice.  With my respect for you there has also grown a sense of 
comradeship and friendship and it is my hope that you feel the same.”  
Aragorn paused here and Boromir’s head bobbed an acknowledgment.

“For all that I esteem and value you, Boromir, I will not pander to 
prejudice.  Nor will I yield to another the choosing of my nearest and 
dearest.  If there is aught of destiny in my future then I will meet destiny 
with integrity.  Do you understand me, Boromir?”

It was only a few seconds but it seemed to me that hours went by in 
silence.  Finally, Boromir’s shoulders slumped forward in token of 
resignation.  “Yes, lord.”  Not yet completely satisfied Aragorn held the 
other man’s eyes.  At first, Boromir fidgeted slightly but in the end he was 
able to meet Aragorn’s gaze openly, hiding nothing.  Only then did the 
king release him from his contemplation.

“Will you ask the others to come in, please.  It is long passed time that we 
all discussed how we shall proceed.”  Aragorn asked Boromir politely 
letting himself become the simple ranger once more.  The blond man 
signaled his acquiescence and departed.

Once he was gone I put my arms about Aragorn’s neck.  “Thank you.”  I 
whispered into his hair.

My beloved rested his head against my chest.  “I should have done that a 
long time ago, my Sunlight.”  Aragorn said sounding suddenly tired.  At 
that moment there was a noise at the door and my hope took a deep breath 
and patted my hip before turning to the next task.
*
The hobbits, all save Sam, had piled on top of the bed, Frodo nearest 
Aragorn and Merry and Pippin fairly bouncing up and down with surplus 
energy.  Sam preferred to squat by the fire and poke unnecessarily at the 
logs.  Boromir took the only chair in the room and he was about to put his 
boots upon the ottoman when Gimli pushed the stool away from him and 
settled himself upon it.  If there had been a window I would have lounged 
on the sill but as it was I stood, trying to effect nonchalance, by the head of 
the bed.

“Frodo, would you like to begin or would you prefer if I started.”  Aragorn 
asked the hobbit next to him in a low voice.

“Would you tell them, please Strider, I wouldn’t know how to put it.”  The 
ringbearer whispered back.  Aragorn nodded patting the little one’s 
shoulder before turning to address the rest of us.

“When we began this expedition we all began with the understanding that 
only Frodo was bound to see the quest through to its conclusion.  Even so, 
we have traveled far together, endured many hardships and our mission 
might well have failed were it not for the efforts of each one of us.  Frodo, 
however, has looked into Galadriel’s mirror and he has seen great danger if 
we proceed.”  Aragorn explained while Frodo looked guilty.

“That hardly counts as a revelation.”  Boromir said in the tone of one 
waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It is possible that danger may best be averted or at least minimized if 
Frodo were to continue on his own.”  Aragorn said without betraying his 
opinion of this possibility.

There was a general explosion of conversation but one voice made itself 
heard above all the rest.  “No, no!  I won’t have that.  Mr. Frodo isn’t 
going nowheres without me.  I won’t have it.”  Sam’s voice broke in the 
end and the hobbit was red-faced and tearful.

“You have risked enough for me, Sam.  It’s time you should be going 
home.  I’ll manage the rest of the way.  I can move faster on my own, 
anyway.”  I doubted this last was strictly true but Frodo was more 
interested in comforting his distressed friend than in logic.

“It is foolhardy to go on your own, Frodo. Let us stay and protect you, 
young one.”  Gimli said trying to sound reasonable over Sam’s half stifled 
sobs.

“Always the ringbearer’s best protection has been in stealth and secrecy 
rather than strength.  If the enemy finds Frodo it will not matter if we are 
with him or no.  This company has already been marked and Sauron’s eye 
is turned towards Lorien.”  Aragorn said playing the devil’s advocate.

“I don’t care.  I don’t care.  I am going to go with Frodo.”  Sam said 
angrily scrubbing at his eyes as Frodo ran to him with his handkerchief.

“What are you saying, Aragorn?  Surely you don’t mean for us to leave the 
little one to fate or chance?”  Boromir asked trying to pierce the veil the 
ranger had drawn over his emotions.

“Even half-useless as I am I would follow the ringbearer into Mordor even 
if I served no greater purpose than to be struck down by a stray orc arrow 
in the first battle but each of us is here by Frodo’s leave.  If the ringbearer 
forbids me to follow him then I cannot disobey.”  Aragorn spoke heatedly.  
For the first time his true feelings were no longer disguised.

“It’s not like that, Strider!  I don’t mean it like that.  Please, don’t be angry 
or think I’m not grateful, please!”  Frodo exclaimed.  The hobbit’s lambent 
eyes overflowing as he stroked Sam’s back.

“I know, my dear Frodo, but it is not easy for any of us to leave you.”  
Aragorn said, calm once more.

“Let us not get too far ahead of ourselves.”  Gimli interjected.  
“Forewarned is forearmed.  What is the nature of the danger predicted, 
Frodo?”

At the dwarf’s question Frodo’s eyes flicked seemingly of their own 
accord  to Boromir.  In the next instant the ringbearer looked down shame 
and some terrible anxiety distorting his features.  “I- I do not wish to say.  
It is too uncertain.”  Frodo finally mumbled.  It was too late, though.  
Everyone had read the fear and therefore the accusation in the ringbearer’s 
reaction.  Boromir looked as though he had been stabbed through the heart 
but then his eyes hardened and the man regarded Frodo with such 
venomous anger that it bordered on hatred.

Aragorn had grown tense and taking my cue from him I readied myself to 
come between Boromir and the hobbit.  The blond man, however, made no 
move but he seethed with indignation, betrayal and also, bearably 
discernable through his righteous anger, guilt.  Frodo looked at the ground 
and seemed to shrivel in upon himself.  Whatever the hobbit had seen in 
the lady’s mirror it had caused the ringbearer to suspect a man who had 
risked his life more than once for Frodo’s safety and it was bitter to him.

In the end, Pippin broke the awful silence.  The young hobbit had slipped 
quietly from the bed and made his way to where Boromir sat paralyzed by 
the unspoken denunciation  Without being the least intimidated by the 
man’s grim pallor Pippin scrambled up into the chair until he balanced 
somewhat precariously in Boromir’s lap.  After a brief tussle where Pippin 
tried to make himself comfortable and Boromir resisted the small 
creature’s efforts the blond man gave up.  The tension drained out of him 
and he seemed to go limp.  Pippin took the warrior’s hand and then turned 
his wide eyes upon the group.  “What are the rest of us to do, then, if Frodo 
is determined to go on on his own?”  After Pippin spoke Boromir bent his 
head resting his forehead against the hobbit’s sandy curls.  He did not look 
up for some time.

“‘Tis a good question.”  Gimli added hastily, eager as we all were, to take 
the conversation in a new direction.  “I am not ready to become 
superfluous just yet.”

“It occurs to me that there is a service we may yet do for the benefit of this 
quest.”  Aragorn answered thoughtfully.  “If we leave together before 
Frodo we might hope to draw Sauron’s attention to ourselves and away 
from Lothlorien.”

“Thus, if we are successful all the enemy’s resources will be spent trying to 
kill us.”  Gimli groused.

“You grasp the gist admirably, master dwarf.”  Aragorn smiled wryly.

“Well, I’m game.”  Gimli announced. 

“No, please.  I want you all to be safe.”  Frodo said miserably.  “I couldn’t 
bare it if anything were to happen to any of you.”

“You don’t leave us much choice, you know.  If you won’t let us come 
with you then we’ll have to help you any way we can.”  Merry said going 
over to where Frodo and Sam clung together.

“Well, I’m sorry- and I’m sure you have your reasons Mr. Frodo, not that I 
claim to understand ‘em- but even so I’m not going to let you go all on 
your own.  It’s probably presumptuous- and I’m sorry about that but I’m 
going with you, Mr. Frodo and there are no two ways about it.”  Sam said 
still sniffling.

“Oh, Sam.”  Frodo sighed gazing hopelessly at his friend.

“It’s no good you saying ‘oh, Sam’, sir.  I’ve made up my mind.”  Sam 
looked around challengingly except when his eyes met Frodo’s he seemed 
almost shy.

“All right, Sam, come if you like.  You are crazy to come but. . . thank 
you.”  Frodo, finally, agreed and it moved me more than I expected to see 
them like that, together.

The silence brought on by this display of emotion was once again broken 
by Pippin.  “So when do we have to go.  I don’t mean to complain but I 
could do with a few more regular meals before setting off.  And Strider, 
will you be all right, I mean, we won’t have to go until. . .  Well, we won’t 
go until you are better is what I want to say.  There is no sense going all 
the way to Mordor until you are quite up to it, right?”  Pippin floundered a 
bit and I realized I was not the only one to have worried over the ranger.

“Ten days.  To wait longer would be foolhardy.”  Aragorn spoke grimly 
and it was not difficult to see he was angry at himself for being the cause 
of even a second’s delay.

“Will that be enough time, my hope?  For all our sakes do not push 
yourself beyond the limits of the possible.”  I had to ask despite the 
wounded expression my beloved turned on me.

“I will be fine.”  The ranger returned curtly.

“It is a long way to Mordor.”  I pressed.  Do not be vexed with me, my 
hope, I pleaded silently, you know I only ask because I love you.

Aragorn continued to look grim for a moment and then he sighed, 
relenting.  “We will travel a ways by boat which will make things easier.  
Also I am not sure we should take the charade to Mordor.  We may do 
some other good as well as deceive the enemy if we go elsewhere.”

Boromir’s head snapped up at this.  He looked a desperate question at 
Aragorn.  The ranger allowed a small smile to touch his lips in answer.  
“Sauron has never truly believed we would keep to our resolve to destroy 
the ring.  He expects to have to throw down the challenge of a new would-
be ring lord.  Let us give him an excuse to believe what he wishes.  Let us 
go to Gondor and hope that the enemy neglects his own borders in favor of 
opposing us.”

Boromir’s expression was almost beatific.  “You will come?  You will lead 
us?”

“Yes, if you will have me I will come.”

“Then, at last, the dark armies will smash themselves to pieces against our 
walls and then we will ride out and break the back of the serpent enemy!”  
I believe Boromir had completely forgotten about the ring at that moment.  
The blond man seemed to glow with hope and he pressed Pippin in his 
arms almost in rapture.

“We are decided, then?”  Aragorn asked looking at each of us in turn.  
Thoughtful nods met his inquiring look and our impromptu council broke 
up.  Frodo and Sam spent much of the next few hours studying Lady 
Galadriel’s maps.  Aragorn promised to tell them all he knew about various 
routes but he insisted that as much as possible the details of Frodo’s route 
should be kept secret.  The two hobbits appeared calm as though they had 
come to terms with their task.  Merry and Pippin were more agitated.  They 
were uneasy about their friends and were uncomfortable parting from 
them.  Boromir’s enthusiasm was contagious, however, and before 
nightfall the cousins were caught up in his excitement.  

The man, for his part, was clearly ecstatic.  The only drawback was that he 
avoided Frodo as though the hobbit carried the plague.  Perhaps in a way 
he did.  Boromir could not forgive Frodo for suspecting him, the more so 
because those suspicions were so nearly justified.  I hoped Boromir would 
get over his hostility quickly.  There had always been some tension 
between the two but I felt that both would feel better if they were able to 
make peace before we all separated.  Gimli too, seemed almost relieved to 
be parting company with the ring if not the ringbearer.  It had been clear 
from the beginning that the dwarf felt a bit out of his element on such a 
quest.  He would not admit it but I believe he was glad that the problems 
ahead would involve more conventional war strategy.

It was difficult to know what Aragorn was thinking.  The ranger was just 
as taciturn as ever and he was able to deflect my gentle inquiries with ease.  
That should not have surprised me overmuch for I was still not entirely 
myself.  Not long after our council I remember watching a bird feeding its 
young when I burst into tears.  When I recovered myself I could only give 
thanks that I had been alone.  I was in no condition to successfully 
interrogate Aragorn about his feelings. 
*
After I had helped my beloved exercise his injured leg on the day 
following our council I came across Boromir polishing his sword.  For 
once his hobbit entourage was elsewhere so I decided to take the 
opportunity to speak with him.  I felt more secure since Aragorn had told 
the Steward’s son that he loved me and I knew Boromir had been in a good 
mood since it had been decided we would go to Gondor.   Thus, I hoped 
we could both be generous.

“Boromir?”  I said walking up to the man.

“Legolas.”  The blond warrior answered wearing the same smile he had 
been wearing for the past twenty-four hours.

“I wanted to tell you how important it is to me to make myself as 
acceptable as possible in your city.”  I began coming immediately to the 
meat of the matter.  “I am going to be an asset, I promise you.  As far as 
possible I am willing to live according to the customs of men.”  I told 
Boromir sincerely.

“That is. . . very considerate.”  Boromir answered with that same 
expression on his face that he wore whenever he was the witness to some 
act of affection between myself and Aragorn.

I sighed sadly.  “Is it truly that terrible, then?  May I hope for no 
acceptance among my beloved’s people?  Can it be that no male loves 
another in Gondor?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.  I don’t see why you wouldn’t 
get along well enough.  As far as males with males, it’s probably not as 
common as for elves- and I won’t say that it is usual but it’s not unheard 
of.”  Boromir said looking at me in confusion.

“But you. . . but you. . .  I had the impression, Boromir, that you would 
have preferred it had I stayed in Mirkwood blissfully ignorant of any such 
a creature as Aragorn.  Was I wrong?”  I asked completely bewildered.

“No, you weren’t wrong.  Oh, perhaps it would have been better had 
Faramir come in my place after all.”  Boromir said sinking his head in his 
hands.

“I’m sorry?”  I said, just as confuses as before.

“Ah well, it’s not your fault.”  Boromir said with a generous wave of his 
hand.

“No, I mean I don’t understand you.”  I clarified.

“Oh.”  Boromir said slightly abashed.  “Look, Legolas I don’t hate you and 
I don’t care that your male.  Some people will care but it should be 
manageable.  It’s just that. . . it’s just that why must Aragorn prefer elves 
to his own people?  Men are not so bad that he must always look elsewhere 
for his friends and whatever else.  That is why it might have been better if 
Faramir had come.  My brother is a better man than me in many ways.  He 
might have been able to show Aragorn the value of men better than I have 
done.”  Boromir concluded miserably.

I was shocked.  I had not imagined that Boromir might feel that way.  I felt 
sympathy immediately welling up for this man and I wanted to do my best 
to comfort him.  “You have misunderstood, Boromir.  If you had come to 
Rivendell earlier you might have met Halbarad, Aragorn’s kinsman and 
great friend.  His ties with the rangers are strong.  He has also made many 
friendship with men during his travels.  More to the point, Boromir, he 
regards you as a friend.  He wants you to have a good opinion of him.  Has 
he not said as much?”  I asked, laying a reassuring hand on the blond 
man’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.  I thought so. . .  Ah, my mind twists me in circles.”  
Boromir cried pressing his hands to his head.

“Boromir, you must believe me in this: Aragorn is utterly devoted to his 
people but you must believe, too, that all who love him are his people.”  I 
said softly.  In the distance I could see Merry and Pippin approaching.  I 
would not have long to finish this conversation in privacy.  

The blond man nodded after a moment’s consideration. “Yes, I can respect 
that.”  He said grudgingly

I smiled, my good humor returning.  “Good, I am glad that we had this 
chance to talk and you have relieved my mind a great deal upon that other 
point.”

Boromir shrugged but I could tell his mood was lifting.  “If you would take 
some unsolicited advice, Legolas, I would suggest you find something to 
occupy your time in Gondor.  It will keep you from boredom and it will 
make it harder for those few who will object to you to slander you if you 
excel at some duty independent of your relationship with Aragorn.”

Just as Boromir finished speaking Merry and Pippin arrived the younger 
hobbit holding a bit of pastry out to the man.  “Merry and I have been to 
the kitchens.”  Pippin announced.  “And I brought you something, 
Boromir.”

“That’s my lad.”  Boromir replied smiling his thanks and taking the offered 
sweet.

“I could get you something too if you’d like.”  Pippin volunteered looking 
at me with wide innocent eyes.

“And get something more for yourself while you’re about it.”  I replied, 
not the least duped.

“When it comes to food we hobbits serve others best when we also serve 
ourselves.”  Pippin admitted pleased at his own sagacity.

“Perhaps we should wait a bit in any case, Pip.”  Merry said.  “When we 
left they were only just putting the next batch of sticky buns in the oven.”

“I suppose you’re right.  Legolas likes the sticky buns best when they are 
just out of the oven and still warm.  Don’t you Legolas?”

Laughing I agreed that that was how I liked them best.  Having decided to 
delay their return to the kitchen for a time the hobbits settled down with 
their pipes.

I returned my attention to Boromir.  I had often considered the very thing 
he had just suggested.  I did not want to be underfoot in Gondor.  More 
than that I did not want Aragorn to grow tired of me or worse yet consider 
me a nuisance.  I would have liked to hear what Boromir might have 
suggested I do.  I was willing to perform any necessary chore but I knew 
very little about the proper management of human affairs.  For elves 
leadership consisted mainly of organizing festivals and sending out the 
occasional border patrol or at least that was mainly what my father had 
done.  

“Thank you for your suggestion.”  I said lowering my voice a little.  “I will 
think upon it.  If you are willing I would like to speak of this again 
sometime.”   I smiled to demonstrate my good will.  Boromir who I could 
tell was a little flattered that I seemed to take his advice seriously smiled 
back.
*
I had just come to Aragorn’s room from the baths and my hair hung 
loosely around my shoulders.  My beloved was seated in the only chair in 
the room with his feet propped up on the ottoman, a bandage covering his 
leg from mid-calf to mid-thigh.  He had been reading from a travel account 
but when I came in he smiled and put the book aside.  He wore the 
sleeping robe that I had borrowed for him. It was a bit small but it looked 
reasonably comfortable, nonetheless.

“How are you feeling?”  I asked, taking care to close the door and draw a 
tapestry across it before going over to place the back of my hand against 
the ranger’s forehead.

“I am feeling much the same as I did an hour ago when last you asked.”  
Aragorn answered patiently catching my wrist and drawing it down to his 
lips.

“I am showing great restraint by not asking every minute.”  I told him.  
“Let me build the fire up a little.”  I continued as I tried to pull away and he 
caught my waist to stop me.

“If you are cool I could warm you, Legolas.”  Aragorn offered suggestively 
as he released me.

“We will hardly need to build shelters of snow in here.”  I said, feigning 
obliviousness, though I was swaying my hips more than was strictly 
necessary as I walked to the fire.

“Well, if you think that impractical I might be able to think of an 
alternative solution.”  Aragorn chuckled.

“More ranger ingenuity, no doubt.”  I purred still crouching by the fire.

“Everyone has been in to say their good nights.  I don’t think we will be 
disturbed any more tonight.”

“Good.”  I replied, although I had made sure of that before I had come in.  
Last night Frodo had not wanted to be separated from Aragorn so he and 
the other hobbits had asked to sleep in his room.  The enclosed space also 
reminded them of their hobbit holes and was comforting for that reason 
also.  I was not going to be excluded from the ranger’s side so I was also 
there.  Then Boromir claimed he had finally learned to sleep with Pippin’s 
big feet kicking him and there was no sense in him losing the habit.  This 
left Gimli who decided it was preferable to share a small space with one elf 
than a large space with hundreds.  Thus, the entire fellowship had bedded 
down together and even though this was a little odd to everyone save the 
hobbits there was a great deal of comfort in it.

“Did Frodo seem all right?”  I asked.  It was selfish of me, I know, but I 
wanted Aragorn all to myself tonight.

“He was a bit tearful but I would rather see him thus, than withdrawn and 
silent.  He has so much courage.  It is almost beyond belief.”  Aragorn 
said, voice weighed down with sadness.

“I am glad he will have Sam with him, glad for Sam’s sake as much as for 
Frodo’s.”  I said gazing into the blaze.

We were both silent for a moment and then I heard Aragorn shift in his 
chair.  “The glow of the flames lights your hair like a halo.  Ah my 
Sunlight, I think you are too beautiful for a mortal to look upon with 
safety.”  My beloved murmured half to himself.

“I have something for you.”  I said, smiling gently at the praise.

‘I only want you.”  Came the honest reply.  

“Ah, my hope, you have me.”  I said locking eyes with my beloved’s and 
sliding sinuously towards him on my hands and knees.  The ranger’s eyes 
began to smoulder as I exaggerated the rise and fall of my hips.  When I 
reached him I rose as far as my knees and carefully stroked down the 
length of his uninjured leg with a light sweep of my fingers.  I took his foot 
from the ottoman and gently placed it in my lap.  Then I reached into my 
pouch and withdrew a stoppered bottle.  

“Linseed oil with coriander.”  I murmured uncorking the bottle and 
pouring the viscous liquid into my hand.  After warming the oil between 
my palms I began to massage it into Aragorn’s foot.

“Very soothing.”  My beloved intoned appreciatively as I used my thumbs 
to push gently into his heel.  When I felt the pressure in his muscles slowly 
begin to loosen I lightened my touch to soft caresses.  Moving up I 
explored his ankle moving my fingertips in slow circles.  I closed my eyes 
letting myself enjoy the feel of his oil slick skin and the warmth of his 
flesh against my palms.  Continuing upward I admired the long lines of 
muscle running along his shin and the rock hard planes of muscle in his 
calf.  I felt a knot of tension break up under my hands and my beloved 
shuddered a little as the pressure dissolved.

“Legolas,” Aragorn called softly reaching out to stroke my cheek.  I 
pressed against his hand a moment then bent my head slightly kissing his 
palm.  I put his foot on the carpet beside me and turned to his injured leg.  
Deciding it was better to allow his leg to remain elevated on the ottoman I 
doused my hands in the oil once more.  I began the same slow massage on 
his injured leg only I was much more careful, my touch almost delicate.  
Unable to resist temptation I added the pressure of my lips to the strokes of 
my fingers.  Finding the protruding mound of bone on the inside of his 
ankle I sucked gently.  

“Legolas,” This time the call was slightly more insistent and I heard my 
beloved make an effort to sit up so that he could he could better reach me.  

His hand grasped my shoulder ready to pull me into an embrace.  Placing 
my own hand atop his I pressed another hurried kiss to the side of his foot.  
“Just another moment, my hope, please.”  I whispered not yet finished with 
what I hoped were healing ministrations.

“Soon, my Sunlight.”  Aragorn said huskily keeping his hand on my 
shoulder though he no longer tried to pull me closer.

“Yes.”  I agreed sounding a bit husky myself.

When I came to Aragorn’s mid-calf where the bandage started I stopped 
the massage knowing I lacked the skill to be sure of not hurting him.  
Instead I trailed my fingers lightly- just enough to provide contact- up his 
leg.  I felt unnatural heat rising from his knee and I mewed in sympathy.  
As I continued up his thigh the bandage ended and I thought it was safe to 
resume a more vigorous touch.  I was held back, however, by my beloved’s 
robe so I began undoing the ties.  I was stopped when Aragorn brought his 
uninjured leg around to trap me against him.  Sighing in blissful defeat I 
tilted my head up to be kissed.  Aragorn leaned down and our lips met.

I still wanted his robe off and I pushed at the fabric when I remembered to 
do so between kisses.  My beloved had his arms around me kneading my 
back as he pulled me still closer.  Giving up for the moment on removing 
his robe I let my hands roam beneath it, tracing his ribs, running down the 
length of his flat stomach then finally twining around him to his back.  I 
smiled into our kiss.  It was so good to touch him, so good to see him, so 
good to taste him, so good to love him.

Feeling my smile Aragorn drew my bottom lip into his mouth biting it 
carefully before sucking it with such force that it drew a long sigh from 
my open mouth.  He released my lip and my head lolled back exposing my 
throat.  My beloved nuzzled at the juncture of my shoulder and neck.  The 
scratch of his beard against the soft, vulnerable flesh of my throat added 
fuel to the burning desire that had already been kindled in my groin.

Running into the cloth of my shirt, my beloved seized the offending 
material pulling upward.  I raised my arms so that the shirt could be more 
easily removed.  When it was off Aragorn tossed the shirt away from us 
but I took advantage of his distraction to begin pushing at his robe.  
Determined to be rid of the cloth impediment I rose to my feet.  Moving 
even closer to him I let my belly and then my thigh brush against his 
swelling erection.  He shuddered against me and I moaned with the sheer 
joy of it.  On my feet I was in a better position to push Aragorn’s robe off 
his shoulders so it pooled around him, revealing my beloved in glorious 
nakedness.

In the next instant passion for this brave, stern, beautiful man consumed 
me and I bent down kissing him fiercely.  I used both hands, fingers 
tangling in his hair to press his head closer.  Aragorn responded with 
similar ardor, pressing his tongue deep into my mouth, giving me only a 
moment to lick and suck at it before withdrawing and plunging in again.  I 
was too dizzy with kisses to notice that the laces on my leggings were 
being undone but as the cloth was pushed down my hips rubbing then 
freeing my aroused and swollen member I cried out, moaning into my 
beloved’s mouth.  Struggling to regain a bit of composure I broke away 
from Aragorn’s demanding kiss panting hard.

I returned to my knees, grateful to be free of the responsibility of standing 
I let my cheek brush against the throbbing heat of my beloved’s rigid 
shaft. Then pausing every few inches to wet my tongue I licked from the 
tip to the root of Aragorn’s penis leaving a wet trail to his navel.  From 
there I looked up at my beloved grinning wickedly.  My ranger looked 
down at me under heavy lidded eyes and his knuckles were white as they 
clutched the chair arms.  I knew he suspected I wanted to tease him and he 
was preparing himself for the worst.  For all his perspicacity Aragorn 
never seemed to realize that I only ever teased him when I wanted to drive 
him to the point where he would throw me down on the bed and have his 
way with me.  Sighing a little, I kissed a quick circle around his naval and 
then lowered my head once more.

I massaged Aragorn’s thighs while I ducked my head and took his balls 
into my mouth.  My beloved hissed as I traced his shape with my tongue 
feeling him tighten.  The heat and heaviness of him in my mouth was 
intensifying my desire forcing a little moan passed my lips.  At the same 
time I felt Aragporn’s erection jump a little clamoring for attention.  I 
brought my right hand up to the insistent organ and stroked it up and 
down.  My beloved took great fistfuls of my hair and then released them in 
time with his breathing.  At this point my own throbbing erection 
demanded notice.  I resisted the temptation, however.  It took very little 
physical stimulation to push me over the edge whenever I pleasured 
Aragorn so I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment forcing myself to delay 
my own release.

Letting my beloved’s balls slip from my mouth I moved up to lick away 
the droplets of moisture seeping from his erection.  I placed a wet sucking 
kiss on the crown of his penis.  “Oh gods, Legolas.  Gods, my Sunlight.”  
Aragorn exclaimed, hands leaving my hair and fastening tightly on my 
shoulders.  I repeated the kiss, dragging the insides of my lips along the 
molten surface, until I had driven my darling beyond the power of speech.

Finally, I could wait no longer.  Taking a deep breath I took my beloved 
into my mouth.  For a moment the hot steel pulsed against my soft pallet 
but I quickly changed the angle and then I could feel him filling my throat.  
I swallowed him deeper letting the small contractions of my throat 
squeeze him tighter.  Still there was more of him to take in.  I slackened 
the muscles of my throat and pushed myself on to him until my nose 
brushed against the short bristly hairs surrounding his groin.

After a moment I had to retreat in order to breathe but I could not help 
thinking that oxygen was a poor alternative to the wonderful and complete 
fullness of having my beloved so deep within me.  Again and again I took 
him completely into myself.  My cheeks hollowed around him sucking 
vigorously.  When I could feel Aragorn approach the edge of orgasm I 
quickly reached for my own aching flesh.  Then I felt a shudder run 
through my beloved and I drank down the hot spurting liquid that shot into 
my mouth.  In the next moment after a few rough strokes I felt my own 
explosion rock through me leaving my hand and belly sticky.

I knelt and listened to Aragorn’s breath slowly return to normal as I waited 
for the world to stop spinning.  Before I had completely recovered my 
beloved bent down taking hold of me beneath my arms. He lifted me with 
more strength than I could quite credit given his injuries onto his uninjured 
thigh.  Then he took what I think was a spare bandage and wiped my 
stomach clean.  I put my arms around his neck and laughed at the picture I 
must have made for I was perched precariously on only half his lap with 
my leggings still around my knees.  Aragorn laughed a little too to keep 
me company and then kissed me, warm and gentle.

After a bit more kissing I felt my beloved shift his weight and put an arm 
under my knees and the other around my chest as if preparing to pick me 
up.  “Don’t you dare.”  I reprimanded seizing the chair arms to stop him 
from rising.  “You haven’t any business carrying me anywhere.  You can’t 
even carry yourself without that stick.”  I said firmly.

“Are you offering to carry me, my elf?”  Aragorn asked smiling a little.

I was very much tempted to carry him, especially if he continued looking 
at me with that look that was almost but not quite mocking.  It was not so 
much his weight that kept me from the effort but his length would make it 
awkward for me to hold him with the amount of care I thought necessary.  
“Let’s not go anywhere just yet, my hope.”  I responded nestling deeper 
into his arms.

“I am afraid, my poor elf, that this is something of a foretaste of what you 
will have to look forward to when I am old.”  Aragorn said, stroking my 
hair.  He spoke in that quiet half-jesting tone he used whenever he alluded 
to some deeply personal fear or sorrow.

“I like this just fine.”  I answered almost defiantly.  “If you will only love 
me, my hope, then nothing else matters to me.”  I said touching my 
forehead to Aragorn’s.

“It is not fair to you, Legolas.”  Aragorn said turning his face away.  
“Human aging is such an ugly thing and you are so beautiful.”

I was astonished that he should say such a thing.  He was of a race 
condemned to what I could only interpret as pointless suffering and death.  
If I had been born a man I would have shaken the skies with lamentation 
and proclaimed the brutal injustice of it all before the gods themselves but 
my beloved’s only complaint was that it was unfair to me.  I could only 
wonder at such a view and do my best to reassure the man.  “My love for 
you, Aragorn Elessar, king to be and mortal man, is a force that both 
transcends and is a part of nature.  Fairness has nothing to do with it.  You 
may as well expect fairness from the  wind or the sun or the rain.  If there 
is a cost to loving you then it makes no difference to me.  My heart counts 
it as nothing.”

Aragorn sighed deeply after I had finished speaking.  His eyes glittered 
with unshed tears.  Finally, he turned to me and took my face in his hands.  
“I love you, Legolas.  I love you so much that it frightens me for I know I 
can never stop and I can never be complete without you.”  As Aragorn 
spoke a single tear spilled down his cheek and I kissed it away pulling him 
close.

After a few moments I kissed the side of Aragorn’s face and I whispered: 
“I am going to prepare myself for you, my hope.  I want you to watch me.  
I want you to see me get ready for you.”  So saying I kissed him once 
more and slid from his lap.  I settled languidly on the floor a few feet in 
front of my beloved.  Summoning all my elfin grace I finally finished 
removing my leggings.  Now completely naked I reached for the bottle of 
linseed oil and poured it directly onto my chest.  I lay on my side, 
supporting myself on my elbow, and lazily rubbed the oil into the taut skin 
of my belly, moving up now and then to circle a nipple with one finger.

I stole a quick glance at Aragorn to be sure I had my man’s complete 
attention.  Satisfied that his gaze was riveted upon me I lowered my eyes 
knowing what effect the downward sweep of my long blood eyelashes had 
on my beloved.  Shifting over so I was sitting back with my weight on my 
elbows I bent my knees.  I shook my head so that my hair waved behind 
me in a golden cascade.  Gradually I let my knees drift apart exposing my 
hardening sex.  Aragorn growled softly the sound starting low in his chest.  
I licked my lips delicately in response and the growl deepened.

I sucked one finger into my mouth, assuming a considering expression as 
though I were carefully evaluating the taste and texture.  Then I moved the 
damp finger to the crease of my buttocks, stroking up and down until 
quick as a flash I sank the digit deep within myself.  All the while I 
watched my beloved.  From my position Aragorn was framed by my open 
thighs and I watched his renewed arousal with hungry eyes. 

I removed the finger after moving it in and out several times.    Unsatisfied 
with the angle I could achieve in my current position I sat up to douse my 
hands with oil.  Then I rose and walked to the large bed.  By the burning 
in my flesh I knew Aragorn watched my every move.  I wondered how 
much longer my beloved would keep from me.  Taking hold of the bed’s 
tall post then wrapping one leg about it I determined that I would not 
allow it to be long.

With the post to support me and one leg raised it was easier to push an oil 
slick finger past the tight ring of muscle.  I added a second and third finger 
quickly, imagining that it was my beloved’s hands upon me.  My breath 
became ragged with the fantasy and I rubbed my face against the post 
breathing my beloved’s name in a needy whisper.

The small thud of wood against carpet announced my ranger’s approach.  
Turning from the post I was caught in a fevered kiss.  The walking stick 
fell heedlessly to the floor as Aragorn took me in his arms.  I moved 
against him savoring his rough power.  I felt the callouses on his hands as 
he clasped me.  His touch was so much better, so much more real and 
vivid than the watered silk of my own flesh.  I turned so that my back was 
against Aragorn’s chest and rubbed along the length of him.  My stance 
widened automatically as I pressed my buttocks against his thighs.

“Sunlight, my Sunlight, mine.”  Aragorn moaned into my ear as his hands 
roamed over my chest abrading the very tight nubs of my nipples.  All my 
blood seemed to rush to my groin making me slightly dizzy.  My head 
lolled onto Aragorn’s shoulder so that he could kiss my face.  I held my 
beloved’s wrists as he stroked me for I needed as much of him as possible; 
I needed to be surrounded by him; I needed to forget everything but his 
skin on mine.

“Please Aragorn, I can wait no longer.  I love you so much.  I need to feel 
you inside me.”  I pleaded helplessly rubbing my backside against him 
with greater force.

My ranger did not answer in words but the slight pressure from his hand 
between my shoulder blades assured me that my plea had not fallen upon 
deaf ears.  I leaned forward supporting myself on my forearms on the bed   
Impatiently I pushed my hips backward against him.  Then I stood on my 
tiptoes rubbing against him wantonly.  Strong hands on my hips stilled my 
desperate motions, then adjusted me a little spreading my buttocks apart.

“I love you, Legolas.”  Aragorn said earnestly as he pushed into me, 
pushing and pushing until he was buried to the root.

I sobbed a little at the glory of it.  There was no pain for elves are blessed 
but there was the sensation of stretching, of pressure and then of giving 
way of being completed.  Ah, why couldn’t it be like this for ever: 
Aragorn and me joined always.

“Legolas?”  The question came gently as his hands stroked my hips 
reassuringly.

“Yes,” I begged.  “Yes, don’t stop.  Don’t ever stop.”

With that encouragement Aragorn withdrew a little then thrust in once 
more.  He was still holding my hips still or I would have reared back to 
meet him.  Moaning I bent my head and took the blanket between my 
teeth to stifle any more begging.  After a few more exploratory thrusts 
Aragorn hit the bundle of nerves at my center forcing an inarticulate cry 
passed my makeshift gag.

Now he was starting to move with greater speed and power.  He had 
released my hips in favor of holding onto the bed so now I thrust 
backward to meet each stroke.  Yelling and crying out from the ecstacy of 
it.  My shaft was painfully hard as it bounced between my legs but when 
Aragorn caught it closing it in his fist I whimpered: “No, my hope, don’t 
make me come yet.  I want to wait for you.”  I barely managed to speak I 
was so near the edge but I wanted to hold out just a little longer, just 
another few sharp, hard stabs so that I could feel my beloved lose himself 
in me.

Aragorn grunted above me, released my aching erection and then 
redoubled the strength of his thrusts.  I moaned.  I was not sure I could 
keep from exploding even without being touched, the way he pounded into 
me but then I felt him tense inside me and the hot gush of his release.  I 
quivered and my heart seemed to swell.  In a moment Aragorn had his 
breath back and he struck into me a few more times while tugging on my 
swelling penis.  The world exploded and my arms splayed out so that my 
chest and belly rested on the bed.

Aragorn lay atop me for a time our sweat and heavy sighs mingling.  
Soon, however, my beloved kissed me then his weight shifted and he 
slipped out of me as he struggled upright.  Stifling a sigh of loss I rose, 
also.  With our arms around each other’s waists I helped Aragorn make his 
way to the side of the bed.  While he maneuvered himself into a 
comfortable position I retrieved the abandoned walking stick.  I much 
preferred to be my ranger’s support but I knew he valued moving around 
on his own so I put the stick within easy reach.

“I love you.”  I whispered crawling into bed and wrapping myself around 
my beloved.

“I love you, too.”  Aragorn responded, pulling me even closer to him.  
“You surprised me a little tonight, Sunlight.  You have always been 
beautiful beyond description but tonight. . . You were so very. . . so 
incredibly. . . seductive.”  Aragorn said smoothing my hair away from my 
face.

“I was about as seductive as a cat in heat I wanted you so badly.”  I 
responded deprecatingly but I could not keep the smile out of my voice or 
the flush of pride from my cheeks.

“An angel in heat, perhaps.”  Aragorn laughed.  “I had never thought to 
see such an exquisite wonder as the sight of you, your pale skin glowing 
and your hair shining like the sun and eyes alight with need pressed 
against that post.”  Aragorn shook his head to dispel the image then leaned 
down to kiss the top of my head.

“You liked me thus, Aragorn?”  I asked.

“Have I not made that clear?  Yes, gods yes.” 

“I have lived a long time, my hope, and I am acquainted with many 
marvels.  I know of things which are sometimes done that I think we both 
might enjoy.  Perhaps when this quest is over and Middle Earth is safe I 
could tell you of them.”  I spoke cautiously for Arwen had told me that 
men as a race could be irrationally sensitive about different kinds of sexual 
pleasure.

“Are you not contented, Legolas?  If there is aught you want or need that I 
am not giving you I beg you to tell me.”  Aragorn spoke carefully as 
though struggling with some great emotion.

“Ah, my love, my darling, my sweet lamb, my most noble and generous 
king, you misunderstand me.  I am content.  I am blissfully happy.  A 
moment with you is worth all those hundreds of empty years I spent 
without you.  It is only that. . . that” 

I stopped and took a deep breath.  “In the caves, I felt trapped, caged.  I 
had never felt so helpless but when you held me still pinning me to the 
floor controlling all my movements I felt free, I felt safe.  I know you are 
gentle and compassionate but you are more than that.  There is a fire, a 
force within you that you keep from me.  A core of steel and anger, pride 
and unyielding will.  I want you to let me love this part of you.”  I finished 
hoping that he understood my meaning.  It had been folly to speak of this 
now.  Again I cursed Moria.  I was sure I could have controlled the sudden 
impulse to speak had my mind not undergone such an assault.

“There is evil in me, Legolas.  Evil that I would do anything to protect you 
from.  I could not forgive myself if I ever hurt you.  I told you before that I 
love you so much that it makes me afraid.  I am constantly afraid that I 
will lose control and do something to hurt you.  Oh my Sunlight, if only 
you knew what dark desires lurk in the corners of my mind.”  Aragorn’s 
eyes closed as he uttered this last confession and I ached for the suffering I 
saw in his face.

“Who has told you these desires are evil?”  I asked, nestling close.  “It is 
my belief that your desires and mine are reciprocal.  There is no evil in 
you, my hope, and there is no taint to your blood.”

At this point my beloved opened his mouth to protest but I hushed him 
with a quick kiss.  “Listen to me, Aragorn.  Isuldor kept the ring and 
Elrond did not stop him.  Whether he could not or simply would not stop 
him does not matter but Elrond carries the guilt of that failure with him 
always.  All unknowing he has marked you with that guilt.  He has made 
Isuldor into a madman and put you in terror of yourself because he cannot 
face his own weakness.  Remember, my hope, the legends say that the ring 
betrayed Isuldor to his death but nowhere does it say Isuldor took up 
Sauron’s mantle of oppression and cruelty.  But speaking of Isuldor is not 
to the purpose.  You are not your fathers and their sins are on their own 
heads.”  The words came tumbling out.  I did not know what I spoke 
before I spoke it but I marveled as each new insight was revealed.  How 
had I not realized all this earlier?  How could I have allowed my beloved 
to suffer so long because I could not see truth before my eyes?

“As for hurting me, my hope, I am strong.  I trust you and I have no fear 
of anything you may wish to do to me.  Do you believe me, love?  Do you 
know what the prospect of exploring your ‘dark desires’ does to me?  Do 
you know that it fills me with excitement, lust and unquenchable yearning  
Do you believe me when I tell you that I can only be hurt if I was kept 
from loving you completely, loving you as you are both gentle and hard?”  
I asked trying to control my fear that all my rash talk would cause Aragorn 
to withdraw from me.

Aragorn considered long.  I watched him anxiously but his expression was 
unreadable.  Finally, he turned to me, took my hands in his and allowed 
the conflict to be revealed in his eyes.  “I think I believe you, Legolas.  I 
do believe you.  But, my Sunlight, you have given me so much to think 
about.  I don’t think I can make sense of it all at once.  I want. . . I want to 
talk about this again but not now, not until we have led the enemy from 
Fordo, at least.  Is that all right?”

“Yes.”  I said overcome with relief.  “I want that too.”  Smiling I kissed 
my beloved.

Suddenly all my weariness caught up to me and I yawned.  I tried to 
smother it behind my hand.  It was bad form for an elf to yawn but 
Aragorn saw and laughed.  “Shall we go to sleep now, my Sunlight?”

Nodding against his chest I prepared to let sleep overtake me.  Something 
played at the back of my mind, though.  I had said something to Aragorn 
that I remembered hearing somewhere else and I could not quite 
remember  where.  Then just on the verge of slumber the memory came to 
me with perfect clarity: ‘You are not your father.  If you had been of his 
character then you never would have been in attendance at such a council.’  
I could scarce credit it, Gimli of all people.  Still amazed I drifted into 
sleep wrapped safely in my beloved’s arms.
*
“How far shall we walk today?”  I asked sitting cross legged on the bed as 
I tied the laces on my sleeves.  My beloved was seated in the chair 
finishing whatever concoction he, Fallon and Sam had decided among 
themselves would do him the most good.

“Twice around the glen does not sound too ambitious.”  Aragorn answered 
downing the last of his tea.  Each day he wanted to press himself further so 
that by the time of our departure he would have either regained most of the 
use of his leg or failing that learned how to compensate for its lack.

“Legolas?”  The tone of his voice made me look up.

“Yes?”  I replied.

“I think it might be better if I walked alone.”  Seeing my expression 
Aragorn continued rapidly.  “You are the most careful and attentive of 
nurses and I believe the bulk of whatever progress I have made is due to 
you but, my love, you are far too indulgent.  You all but carry me on our 
walks and as reluctant as I am to object to something so pleasant I have to 
push myself.”

I knew he was right.  It was impossible for me to resist doing things for 
him but it was also true that he already pushed himself too hard.  More 
than that I felt that I had been responsible for Aragorn’s injury in the first 
place.  There was no way I would be able to watch him struggle without 
running to his aid.  

“Perhaps there is something to what you say.”  I conceded.  “But I wish 
that you would give yourself time to recover properly.  A few days more 
or less are not so crucial.”

“I am loath to delay at all but perhaps I will heal more readily than we 
now expect.”  Aragorn answered, adamant.

I rose from the bed and went to put my arms about my beloved.  “Very 
well, but do not go alone.  Take someone else, Boromir perhaps.”  I 
suggested

“Boromir has little patience for anyone without hairy feet.”  Aragorn 
demurred taking one of the hands I had clasped about him and kissing my 
wrist.

“Yes, on second thought not Boromir, definitely not Boromir.”  Boromir 
and I  had reached an understanding and we were friends.  I hoped we 
would become better friends with time but even so I still felt a bit of 
competition with the blond man.

“I had thought Frodo and Sam might accompany me.”  Aragorn suggested.  
“Sam could run for help in an emergency and I want to try and interest 
Frodo in the beauty of Lorien.  He takes less and less notice of his 
surroundings.”

I sighed a trifled exasperated.  My beloved would never do only one thing 
when he might conceivably accomplish two.  It was very frustrating when 
what he truly needed to do was rest and let the world take care of itself for 
a bit.  “I love you.”  I confessed kissing the top of his head.  “Even when 
you are being stubborn enough to make a dwarf seem amenable.”
*
A few moments later Aragorn and I emerged from the room.  My beloved 
carried his stick in one hand and held my arm in the other.  The rest of the 
fellowship greeted us amiably.  Boromir, Merry and Pippin were 
practicing swords.  Gimli was smoking and Frodo was staring off into 
space.  Sam, as always, hovering at his side.

“Frodo, could I beg your assistance a while?”  Aragorn called out and I 
tactfully disengaged my arm and went to sit by Gimli.

“Of course, Strider.”  Frodo answered focusing his gaze upon the ranger.  
“What do you want me to do?”

“I’d like you and Sam to walk with me.”  Frodo looked ready to resist the 
effort to distract him from his brooding but Aragorn allowed his eyes to 
travel to the stick he was forced to carry.  Immediately Frodo reinterpreted 
the offer as a genuine request for help and he came to his feet with 
something of his old energy.

“Yes, a walk sounds lovely.  Come on, Sam” Frodo said taking Aragorn’s 
hand with the pride of one who was being helpful.  I watched the trio start 
off into the trees, a smile playing across my lips.  

“Good morning, Gimli.  It is a beautiful day.”  I remarked taking a deep 
breath of the fresh, crisp autumn air.  In answer the dwarf only shrugged 
indifferently.

“Ah, forgive me.  I was being insensitive.  One may as well describe color 
to a blind man as beauty to a dwarf.”  I said playfully.

“You’re in a jocular mood.”  The dwarf returned gazing at me through a 
haze of smoke.  “I suppose I can admit that this place is pretty enough.  I 
can see how it might appeal to a certain taste.”

“Ah, if you could but see it in the summer when the sun gilds the lush and 
verdant leaves and flowers.”  I sighed.

“All right.  I said it was pretty enough.  You needn’t carry on.”  The dwarf 
admonished.

We sat for a while in companionable silence after that.  I listened to a 
robin sing and scanned the horizon waiting for a glimpse of Aragorn and 
the hobbits through the trees.  Gimli watched the mock battles between 
Boromir on one side and Merry and Pippin upon the other, occasionally 
shouting out a critique or encouragement.

“It occurs to me, elf,” Gimli began reinitiating the conversation, “that I 
have seen too little of the world.  I was looking at maps with Boromir and 
I found such vast areas I knew nothing about that it was quite sobering.”

“I did not know dwarves had any particular penchant for exploration.  
There are some exception, of course, but most elves can live centuries 
without ever leaving their native forest.  Now that I think upon it that does 
tend to make for a rather slanted view of the world.”  I answered thinking 
about my father’s almost fanatical lack of curiosity.

“Dwarves tend to explore down rather than across but- and I shall deny 
this, elf, if you ever repeat it to anyone- there comes a point when one 
would like to encounter more than rocks.”  Gimli confessed.

“Your secret is entirely safe with me.”  I reassured the dwarf amused.  “In 
the same vein, I never thanked you for your discretion concerning what 
you knew of my relationship with Aragorn.  It was noble of you.”  I said 
sincerely.

Gimli dismissed my thanks with a wave of his hand.  “Think nothing of it.  
Besides what goes around comes around and I certainly wouldn’t want 
who I was sleeping with bruited about.  Ah, it was a joke, elf.  Breathe!”

Gimli pounded my back and I coughed a few times until I had my breath 
back.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I inhaled some of that ghastly pipe smoke.  You 
were saying?”

Gimli eyed me narrowly then seemed to relent.  “So how fares our gallant 
leader?  He acted well enough but I know he conceals his pain so that the 
rest of us may keep heart.”

“As you say he is as stoic as ever, but I think he is, in truth, recovering.”  I 
confided.

“That is well.”  Gimli acknowledged.  Then after a silence the dwarf 
asked: “Legolas, what do you mean to do when this is all over, this war I 
mean?”

My eyes widened a bit in surprise.  I should have thought that was 
obvious.  “I will go with Aragorn to Minas Tirith, of course.”

“Ah, I could have guessed that but you will not be with him always.  I 
imagine he will have mountains of work to claim his time.  How do you 
mean to occupy yourself while he is busy being king.”  Gimli asked, a bit 
of diffidence to his tone.

“I had not given it much thought.”  I lied.  Even before Boromir’s advice I 
had wondered obsessively whenever I had a spare moment about how I 
was going to keep from being underfoot.  “I should like to help him in 
some way with his work if that is possible.”

“Mm.”  Gimli considered.  “It occurs to me, and mind I am only thinking 
aloud here, that it would be nice to see a bit more of the world.  The 
outside of it, I mean.  I should like to travel a bit and I thought, perhaps, 
you might like to come with me.”  Gimli finished, his cheeks flushing with 
embarrassment.

I was speechless for several moments.  Such an idea had never occurred to 
me.  A bit daunted by my silence Gimli hurried on.  “I wouldn’t want to be 
wandering about all the time.  Just like any sane people we would spend 
the bulk of our time at home.  I daresay there would be some advantage in 
it for Aragorn, too.  After all, we could be emissaries.  I could handle the 
diplomatic aspect of the venture and you could. . . well you could impress 
everyone with your knowledge of flowers.  Anyway, you might consider 
it.”  The dwarf actually sounded nervous.

“I think that that is a splendid idea.”  I said.  I wanted to discuss it with 
Aragorn but really it seemed ideal.  I was a king’s son after all.  I was 
noble enough for any court and if I could keep the dwarf on a tight rein I 
knew that we could make a favorable impression for Gondor.  I did not 
want to be separated from Aragorn at all but I had accepted that some 
separation would be inevitable.  This way, though, I could not only be 
useful but it would be interesting, as Gimli said, to see the world.  Gimli 
expression had softened into a relieved smile and I could not quite resist 
adding: “for a dwarf, anyway.”

Gimli did not rise to the bait, however.  Instead he clapped me on the back 
and said smiling: “You know, elf, I could not choose a better traveling 
companion.

“And you know, Gimli, I could not choose a better friend.”

-End