Title: FOR CONTINUING STRANGE (17)
Author: Annie Harris
Email: annie_mouse2001@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Rating: R.
Summary: An unexpected visit from the King puts an end to the
morgul-stuff.
Disclaimer: The usual: No claims, no pack drill - and of course no
profit. Just living in the gaps and round the edges.
Warning: A little bit slashier than usual.
Archive: Axe & Bow (group archive), LoM. Others please ask.

17

The King had heard by now something of what had happened in the lower
city. He had heard the rumours that the wild wood Elf had
disappeared, along with the Dwarf who sang and played the harp.
Having made a few enquiries, he resolved to find out more for himself
and so, when the day's business was done, he once more put on his
grey cloak of Lórien, his chosen incognito, and stepped out into the
bright evening.

He found the courtyard house readily enough, and, seeing the gate
ajar, walked in. There was no sound but of water and the chirping
birds, backed by the general murmur of a city concluding its day's
work.

Aragorn looked around the courtyard, but saw and heard no sign of
life. Then he noticed the archway to the terrace, and strolled back,
taking in everything, simply interested in learning more about his
city. He walked quietly along the terrace, glancing in at the
windows: the large main room, sparsely furnished, with its own door
to the terrace; a smaller room, in the middle of which was a large
table, cluttered with a mass of objects that looked more like the
contents of a workshop than of a home; another window - a bedroom - a
vision of love and peace. He halted, smiling, and prepared to slip
away, but the two within had sensed his shadow at the window. Two
heads rustled up from the pillows, two pairs of eyes recognised him
instantly.

'Elessar!' cried Legolas softly.

'Aragorn!' said Gimli; - 'Come in by the door on your left there,
through the rooms.'

He jumped up to open the curtain and the inner doors. Well, no need
now to persuade Legolas to seek help from the King - the King had
come of his own accord, and, it was soon clear, with the thought of
seeing if help were needed. Gimli took his grey cloak and hung it up
behind the door while Aragorn sat down in an armchair to hear their
story.

When he had heard it all, he looked carefully at the mark on Legolas'
face and touched it lightly.

'Yes, there is still something here that should not be; I feel some
dark force, faint, but dark.'

He brushed his fingertips over the mark in a circular motion, and
Legolas exclaimed:

'Ah! I felt something! As if it moved.'

Aragorn looked at his finger: a couple of tiny grains were visible on
the tip.

'Your touch does more than Gandalf's poultice' said Gimli.

Then he brought the ewer and basin from the wash-stand, set the basin
down on the bed, and poured a little water over Aragorn's
outstretched hand. The water showed black as it fell into the basin,
despite the minute size of the black specks.

The King drew a sharp breath of surprise.

'A strong spell indeed!'

'Plain water seems to be the way to take off the effect' said Gimli.

'If it came from the fires of the Mountain, that should be the way to
undo it.'

Gimli gave him a towel to dry his hand, and he resumed the treatment,
working in spirals which visibly drew the black spots together and
then out onto his fingers. At last Legolas' cheek was unblemished as
before, and the basin was more than half full of black water.
Gimli took the basin and set it outside the courtyard door, to be
emptied later. Legolas thanked the King warmly, surprised by how
different he felt now the black grains were gone. He also saw that
the healing had taxed Aragorn's strength, which made him realise the
danger he had been in.

'I am sorry to be such a burden to you, my lord, when there are so
many who need your help.'

'Many indeed' the King replied; - 'But they are mending now, and I
could not neglect one of our fellowship. You should have sent word to
me sooner. That was worse than it looked.'

'It is not only dwarves who are stubborn, lord' said Gimli; - 'He
would not hear of troubling you.'

'No doubt that was also the action of the stuff, to keep its hold.
Otherwise you would have known that your illnes would trouble me
more.'

Legolas bowed his head in agreement, and patted the bed.

'Will you rest for a while? And we will lock the gate.'

Aragorn agreed, took off his black and silver surcoat, and sat down
on the edge of the bed. Legolas knelt and drew off his boots as Gimli
went down to the gate.

'Do not make yourself my servant, dear Elf.'

'I am proud to be your servant' Legolas replied.

Aragorn stretched himself out on the bed, flat on his back as they
had seen him lie when exhausted by the chase across Rohan, hands
folded left over right on the buckle of his belt, still ready to draw
the sword he no longer needed to wear. Legolas sat down on the edge
of the bed beside him and he shifted to the middle. When Gimli
returned, Elf and Dwarf looked at each other and in silent agreement
settled one either side of the King.

'A last time of fellowship' said Aragorn

'No, not last' said the Elf; - 'We mean to return, both of us, as we
have said. We shall be part of the fellowship of your kingdom.'

'And I, and all the kingdom, will be glad of it.'

'The fellowship is part of us now' said Gimli; - 'It may change, but
not end.'

'Thank you, my friends.'

He closed his eyes, and was soon asleep. Elf and Dwarf lay quietly,
watching him: the fine strong features, so familiar yet so changed,
power and peace underlying the weariness of the moment.

'Now his new quest begins' Legolas whispered.

'The crown may seem almost as much a burden as leading the Fellowship
of the Ring, as the years pass' Gimli responded in sudden
speculation.

'If all goes as we wish, we shall take our share, you and I, small
though it may be, beside his.'

'Willingly' said the Dwarf.

They lay still, thinking and wondering. They had learned little
enough from the envoys who had come in haste from Erebor, Dale,
Mirkwood and Lórien, for the crowning of King Elessar, and returned
as swiftly to spread the news. They would have to go back to their
own people, for a while, to tell their story of the Quest, to hear
the tale of war, victory and loss, and then to begin the shaping of
their new ways.

So many steps to take, so many new gates before them to be tried, to
be opened. They could only go forward, together even when apart, in
trust and love, on the road that must make its own end; and if the
distant future was dark and doubtful, the nearer time to come was
alarming. The very presence of the King drew their minds to it: here
in Gondor they would be accepted, for their very strangeness, but
elsewhere, at home ... that might prove to be another matter. Only
time would tell.

Aragorn slept for almost an hour, motionless between his two
companions, and then slowly woke, in a room still bright with evening
light. He said that he was much refreshed, and indeed looked it; and
there was no doubting the change in Legolas.

'Shall we see the wild Elf dancing again?' Aragorn asked with a
smile.

'You saw me?'

'I heard some tales, from Sam among others. He seemed to think that
the music of our people was making you quite mad!'

'You know how Elves love music and dancing! But that was music such
as I never heard before, instruments I never saw before -
enchanting!'

'You looked as if you might turn into music' said Gimli; - 'And fly
away altogether! When I played the old fire-music, I did wonder what
you might make of it, but it was perfection!'

'I KNEW it was fire music!' the Elf cried, delighted; - 'I could
tell.'

Aragorn looked from one to the other, smiling at their pleasure.

'But dancing on the tables?' he asked

Legolas looked only faintly embarrassed.

'I do not know the dances of Gondor, so could not dance WITH the
people; nor was there room to dance AMONG them - so I chose the only
uncumbered space!'

The King smiled more widely still.

'That sounds very ... reasonable!'

They all knew he meant 'dwarvish', and laughed.

'But you were there?' said the Elf.

'Yes, in the darkest corner of the courtyard, hidden by my grey
cloak. Faramir was there too, as it happens. You almost knocked him
over, Legolas, jumping from one table to another across the entry.'

'And he still invited us to visit the archives in the citadel' said
Legolas; - 'I should have added an apology to my letter.'

'I think no apology will be needed. He has said to me that so much of
the life of this land has been neglected through the wars that he
would be glad of help to restore it.'

'We shall give whatever help we can' said Gimli; - 'From what I have
seen already, there is much work of my folk unrecognised in the city,
and I would hope to see more in the houses of the Kings and the
Stewards.'

Legolas offered the King a cup of one of Sam's herbal mixtures before
he left them, and he was pleased to accept the refreshment. They went
across to the kitchen, and then sat outside to enjoy the fragrant
brew. Aragorn looked at his two companions thoughtfully.

'I see how things stand between you' he said; - 'And I tell you now
that you have my protection always. Yet doubtless you will often come
where words spoken here have little force.'

'It can hardly be otherwise' said Legolas; - 'But we have chosen our
way.'

'And I - we - have the Gift of Galadriel' said Gimli; - 'I believe
its power cannot be known till it is needed.'

'There has been no such gift in all the Ages' said Aragorn; - 'It may
be that the Lady's protection will reach further than mine, even
though she will leave these shores.'

Then, thinking of healers and the powerful, Gimli asked:

'How is it that you could draw out the black poison, when Gandalf
could not?'

'Could not?' said the King; - 'Did not, certainly: for his work is
done, his powers no more for the service of Middle-earth. What is
done from now on must be done by Men.'

Struck by his stern tone, Legolas said:

'Then will Gandalf depart also?'

'He will, dear Elf.'

'Alas, the change of the world will be greater than I thought. And so
you spend your time in council with him while you may.'

Aragorn smiled at him. 

'Departure is not desertion, Legolas.'

When Aragorn had gone, they locked the gate and went back up the
steps. Legolas was feeling sufficiently well to have recovered from
the confirmation that Gandalf would not remain long in Middle-earth.

'Sam said he had left some food ready' said Legolas; - 'I think I'm
hungry.'

'I hope you are. I hope you're back to normal now.'

'What's normal for a mad dancing Elf?' came the laughing response.

'I dread to think!' Gimli teased him, and they went across to the
kitchen to enjoy the cold supper prepared by the kindly Hobbit.

They strolled back across the courtyard as the stars were coming out,
taking their stone jar of golden wine with them. Gimli raised his
glass in a silent toast to the jewels shining in the blue wall of
night, then turned to Legolas and said;

'Your hair is star-colour, fair one.'

'Thank you, my Dwarf-poet. Your words are gems.'

Once in the room, they lounged on the bed, sipping wine and enjoying
their freedom from the shadow that had clouded the last few days.
Suddenly Legolas said;

'Feet!'

'What?' Gimli wondered what new elvish whimsy this might be.

'Feet. I was thinking, when Elessar lay here, and I looked at our
feet, that was what I first noticed - no, what first surprised me,
about you: that you have beautiful feet.'

'It would be hard not to think of feet, when there's a long and hard
way to walk!' said the Dwarf, glancing over a jumble of memories of
rock, grass, snow and chilly streams as he looked down at his own
feet: straight toes, strong arches, unblemished skin, and
well-defined ankles.

'Yes' said Legolas; - 'Beautiful feet, inside those great heavy
boots.'

'Of course; it is the pride of our craftsmen that it should be so.'

'Of course! Like the rest of your unmarked dwarvish hide that you
keep so carefully wrapped under all those layers - except today, when
you've taken to shirt sleeves for once.'

As Legolas teased him, he stroked one long, narrow, pale-skinned foot
against Gimli's squarish ruddy-brown one.

'How odd!' said the Elf.

'What's odd?'

'Well, if you'd never seen an Elf or a Dwarf before, which one would
you say lived mostly undergound, and which out in the forest in
daylight?'

Gimli stared at their feet for a moment, the laughed aloud.

'You're right! It is odd. Would you believe - no doubt you would -
that's what I thought when I first saw Elves - like something growing
in the dark, long and thin and pale! Now, change the words, chage the
vision - tall, slender, fair as moonlight!' 

'And you? What did I think of you? No, the words are not mine, but
Boromir's. 'Moss-covered boulders' he said, not kindly. I laughed,
not kindly, either.'

Gimli snorted: sauce for the goose, after all.

'There are comparisons a Dwarf would like less!'

'But now I know better' Legolas went on; - 'Yet you are still a rock,
a rock with a velvet skin - see - here ...'

He reached out and with one finger lightly touched the inside of
Gimli's left elbow, where the skin creased in the angle over the
steely tendon, making the contrast of hard and soft plain to see,
inviting exploration. He felt the Dwarf quiver slightly at the touch,
and ran his hand slowly down the powerful forearm, brushing over the
abundant brown hair. Then he moved his hand back again, under the
rolled-up shirt sleeve, enjoying the feel of sleek soft skin over the
swell of hard biceps. Then, with startling speed, he was kneeling
astride Gimli's hips and reaching under his beard to unfasten his
shirt.

Now it was Gimli's turn to be the mesmerised rabbit. He simply lay
and wondered at the sparkling mischief in the Elf's face, relieved
and enthralled by the transformation.

Legolas pushed the thick braids aside, and noticed the fine blackwork
on the neckband and placket of the Dwarf's shirt for the first time.

'All this fine embroidery, hidden under a forest of beard!'

'And we favour whitework for best!'

'Even harder to see!'

'Just so.'

'Then I must study you more closely!'

He bent down until their noses were almost touching, then planted a
kiss between the Dwarf's brows before turning his attention back to
the shirt, easing it out from under the waistband of his breeches,
then sliding his hands up underneath, over the delightfully furry
chest, feeling the heat and the heartbeat.

Gimli shifted instinctively, pushing up between the Elf's thighs,
wanting Legolas to feel his arousal, unconcerned by the possible
absence of a similar response from the wayward elvish body, since he
was already learning to read a number of other signs. Legolas moved
back far enough to let Gimli sit up and have his shirt peeled off
over his head. Legolas buried his face in the garment for a long
moment before draping it over the bedhead as Gimli lay down again.
Legolas simply sat and looked at him with a lazy half smile for what
seemed like minutes, before stooping to kiss him once more: a long,
lingering kiss, with a sweet and gentle exploration of tongues.
How quickly the strange newness of all this was becoming familiar,
necessary. Gimli felt his pulse quicken, and his chest heaved for
breath. He did not want things to happen too quickly, but his body
had other ideas.

'I'm not going to be - very good at this' he said faintly, as Legolas
sat up; - 'I haven't your - experience.'

Legolas shook his head and laid a finger lightly on the bearded lips.

'If I were looking for 'experience', no doubt I could find it in this
city: and there would surely be some who would like to add an Elf to
the notches on the bedpost! But I don't want 'experience', I want
you, my prince of Dwarves, brown as hazelnut in the forest!'

Then he folded himself down again onto Gimli's chest, fine hair
falling and veiling, to whisper between kisses:

'And have you had no one, since you lost your beloved?'

It seemed a mystery to him, that one should live so.

'No other woman, though I have been twice with men of my own kind'
the Dwarf confessed gruffly; - 'And they meant little enough.'

'Ah, brave one!'

The Elf's tenderness soothed him, and he ran his hands over the
strong back, still learning the shape of Legolas' body.

'There's nothing brave about it: it's just the way we are.'

Legolas sat up and looked at him steadily: just the way he was, born
to endure. Then he saw Gimli's gaze wander down to the fastening of
his dark green breeches. The Dwarf smiled and plucked lightly at the
lacing.

'Tell me something: is all this an invitation, a provocation, or an
outright challenge?'

Legolas laughed aloud.

'Is that how it looks to you? A challenge? Well, all I can say is,
it's just the way our clothes are made. And besides, you know better
now; you know that what's inside is  - unpredictable!'

'But Elves are always unpredictable!' Gimli laughed in reply. 

He was learning to appreciate that.

'But what about you?' said Legolas; - 'These dwarvish breeches, so
baggy and pleated ... but then, you've got plenty to hide!'

And before Gimli knew what was happening, his waistband was untied
and breeches and drawers stripped off and flung aside in a whirl of
elvish speed and dexterity, and Legolas had slithered down his body
to take that 'so much to hide' into the soft heat of his mouth. After
an instant of shock, delight invaded the Dwarf's body, his world
exploded and he never could remember what the Elf did next. He could
only recall waking up some time later, with a naked Elf as his
covering. The room was almost dark; the challenge of the breeches had
evidently been met, and they embarked on another journey of discovery
by touch that ended with them locked together in bliss.

Just before midnight, Legolas made another of his weather prophecies
- Rain by morning - and abruptly fell asleep, tucked close once more
to Gimli's left side. Gimli soon followed, smiling in the darkness

<Not a thought left, in his head or mine>.



Title: FOR CONTINUING STRANGE (18)
Author: Annie Harris
Email: annie_mouse2001@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Rating: R.
Summary: A trip out of the City to celebrate Legolas' recovery.
Disclaimer: The usual: No claims, no pack drill - and of course no
profit. Just living in the gaps and round the edges.
Warning: A bit more slash.
Archive: Axe & Bow (group list) LoM; anyone else just ask. 

18

Cooler air woke them in the morning, drifting through the open
window, stirring softly over uncovered bodies.

'Right again, Elf! It's raining. How fresh the world smells!'

Legolas sprang awake more quickly than usual, the proof, if any were
needed, of the completeness of Aragorn's cure. He left the bed and
crossed to the window, giving Gimli ample time to admire the strong
supple length of him, the neat rounded backside, the waist-length
hair still sticking in places to the damp of last night's exertions.
Legolas leaned his hands on the windowsill and breathed deeply,
smelling the air, listening to the grateful song of green life
drinking in the rain. The rocks too, in the great mountain, spoke to
him in a chorus of tiny voices from all the crevices of stone and the
plants that grew there.

'Gimli! Come and hear the mountains drink the rain!'

<Hear the mountains?> Gimli got up and stepped across the cool floor
to stand by Legolas, thinking <He'll be out there naked in the rain
like a plant himself in two minutes, and no doubt I'll be with him!>
Legolas' right arm went round him and drew him close, and for a while
they stood at the window watching the soft light rain that veiled the
mountains and the broad valley, while clear drops gathered on the
house eaves and the foliage of the terrace plants. Water fell and
gleamed everywhere.

'Come on, let's go out there!'

'I knew it! Elvish madness! Do you have to be watered like a tree to
live?'

But he followed the Elf throught the two rooms and out onto the
terrace. Outside, he looked warily up and around, and guessed that it
would take a very keen-eyed watcher high in the city to see them, for
the front terrace was less overlooked than the courtyard. Legolas
laughed softly, understanding, and raised his hands and face to
welcome the rain.

The birds hopped and twittered in the bushes, scattering raindrops
and petals, and beyond that Gimli too could hear the song of the
earth, welcoming the belated spring that now spread its mantle of
flower-embroidered green over the world in the wake of the departed
shadow. It was beautiful, but none the less somewhat too elvish for
him. He shivered briefly.

'I'd prefer a warm bath!'

Legolas smiled at him.

'I'd expect to see steam rising from you, furnace of a Dwarf!'

He started to move, but Gimli darted off, back through the main room,
across the courtyard and into the warmth of the kitchen, with the Elf
in amused pursuit. Gimli opened the flue that heated the boiler and
stirred the fire before adding more logs from the basket.

'You may bathe in the spring if you wish, my Legolas, but I will have
hot water.'

'Nay, since you have stood in the rain with me, I shall share the
heated water with you, wash your wonderful hair, and dry it by the
fire.'

'You Elves really are fascinated by hair, are you not?' said Gimli,
running his fingers into the roots at the back of his head and
thinking that a wash would do no harm.

'For once I'll forgive you for addressing me like a public meeting!'
said Legolas in smiling reproof; - 'For you are right, we do love
beautiful hair, and value it above almost any physical beauty. And if
all dwarves have hair like yours, I cannot understand why no Elf has
noticed! Why, the hair alone should convince an Elf that dwarves are
fair to behold.'

'The eye sees what the mind commands, my Legolas, and few of any
kindred can turn things the other way about at will. Those who truly
see what lies before them seem to me few enough in any people.'
While Legolas thought about this, Gimli lifted the lid off the
setpot, releasing a cloud of steam.

'Aha! Water enough, and hot enough.'

He went to fetch a bucket from the room that served as bath house and
wash house, bustling throught the curtained opening.

'Does spring rain turn a Dwarf into a naked philosopher?'

'As to that, I cannot say; but I can say that if a naked Elf wants a
warm bath, he would do well to share the fetching of the water!'

So Legolas laughed again, and Gimli knew that his fair friend was
himself once more, and smiled to see him busy filling the wooden
buckets with hot water.

Bathing each other proved so enjoyable that they had scarcely
finished when the bell rang. Gimli looked for his robe, realised it
was still in the bedroom, and fled round the courtyard under the
shelter of the verandah to get it, closely followed by Legolas, who
collapsed on the bed laughing at the comic spectacle they created,
groping for his white gown.

Gimli grabbed his brown robe, flung it on, found his slippers and
hurried off. Now he had to leave the shelter of the verandah, but the
rain had almost stopped. There was Sam at the gate, Sam very
apologetic for turning up too early.

'No, no, Sam; you are not early, we were dawdling.'

Sam pushed back the hood of his grey cloak.

'Looks like it will be fine in an hour or so: plenty of time for
breakfast.'

So the three enjoyed breakfast together, and Sam learned how Aragorn
had appeared unasked, and removed the last of the black grains from
Legolas' face where the poultices had failed. Sam was so delighted
that he flung his arms around Legolas as he sat at the table and
kissed him on the cheek. Once the meal was over, he hurried off again
to tell the others the news.

The weather was clearing, as Sam had expected, so the two went off to
dress and decide what to do with the day. When they emerged after
careful study of what Minas Tirith had provided for them, they made
an amusing discovery: instead of the greens he usually favoured,
Legolas had chosen a rich deep brown, with simple decoration in
lighter tones, while Gimli appeared in dark forest green, against
which his hair and beard looked more than ever like autumn leaves in
the sunlight. They admired each other unreservedly, and praised the
skill of those who had provided the clothes, instructed, they felt
sure, by Gandalf and perhaps the King as well, but it was some time
before they noticed how they had exchanged their accustomed colours.

While the last of the rain cleared away, Gimli turned his attention
to the Elf's silver circlet. Legolas brought it into the improvised
workshop, and sat watching attentively as the Dwarf's powerful hands
wielded a small mallet with a suede-covered head to gently re-form
some of the fine leaf shapes over a leather-padded block. The work
required pauses for trial fittings, and long moments when the Dwarf's
hands encircled Legolas' head, learning the exact shape of the skull.
Eventually Gimli seemed satisfied, and asked Legolas to wear the
circlet for a while to be sure of the fit. He saw that Legolas kept
looking out of the window, staring into the green distance as the
clouds lifted. He tidied the tools on the table.

'Now, let us go out and look for your blackthorn. The seasons are
late this year, so, who knows what we may find.'

Legolas turned to him with a smile that lit the room and made his
heart jump.

'Yes! I long to be out in the growing world again.'

'First, boots' said Gimli.

He took up a greasy-looking wooden jar and a rag from a corner of the
old table.

'The grass will be wet out there' he went on; - 'Sit down a moment,
please.'

Legolas sat on the wooden bench under the window, and Gimli, kneeling
before him, opened the jar, dipped the rag into the tallow mixture
within, and set to work, carefully greasing the Elf's fine brown
leather boots, working the protective film into the seams and
creases. Legolas wriggled his toes in response, and laughed softly as
Gimli's strong hands worked over his feet.

'That feels - good!'

'Do Elves have enjoy a touch to their feet as much at to their hair?'

'Well, that would - er - take in all possibilities!'

Gimli shook his head, smiling at this 'elvish nonsense', then turned
his attention to his own boots, and soon was ready to set off.

'Better take our cloaks' said Legolas; - 'I think there will be
showers.'

'I'll take your word for it, my elvish weatherbird. You are generally
right about such things.'

Cloaks collected, they were about to leave when Gimli said:
'Will you wear your circlet to walk out?'

'Ah! I had forgotten I was still wearing it. You have reshaped it
well.'

Legolas took off the band of silver leaves and put it away in his
chest in the bedroom.

'You should have something more to hold it than that cloth; it needs
its own casket to keep it from damage in future. I'll make you one
later.'

Legolas saw the sense of that, and thanked him with a warm hug, and
then they set out through the rain-refreshed city.

When they came down to the gate, Gimli stopped to take a good look at
the damage, which was plain to see now that most of the rubble had
been cleared away, and he spent some time talking to the officials
and the craftsmen working there. Legolas followed, watching and
listening, fascinated as always by the unexpected agility of the
Dwarf, the lightness, certainty and speed with which he moved over
the broken stonework, always knowing where to step or leap,
understanding in a moment what would hold and what might give way.

After his tour of inspection, he came hopping back down the jagged
remains of the gateway tower to stand beside the Elf, and said:

'The northern side looks well enough, but on the south I fear that
something has shifted deep in the foundations: not by much, but you
can see it there.'

He pointed, but it was not until he led Legolas up to the wall and
guided his hand to the right place that the Elf could feel, rather
than see, a slight misalignment of the great stone blocks. It seemed
that the south tower had started forward from the curtain wall.

'There must be some fault in the rock below' Gimli said; - 'And the
blows of Grond have disturbed it. All this should come down and be
dug out before rebuilding. The fault may need bridging many feet
down. The master mason doesn't like the idea, but I can tell that he
fears I may be right. The Chief Surveyor is not convinced - but
there's time to deal with it - no enemy at the gates now.'

'The city will need you, and your kin, child of Durin's race, I think
- I hope; as I hope it will need me.'

Then they walked out down the broad ramp that carried the road out of
the city, and turned away left, following at first the northwest path
that they had taken to the burial ground, and then turning off across
the undulating meadows that rolled towards the rocky feet of the
mountains.

The assault of Mordor had passed only briefly over these parts, and
already it was possible to walk in peace with few signs to recall the
horrors of the siege.

Before they had gone two miles, they came suddenly on a hidden dell,
rimmed with small trees, and a half-circle of blackthorn bushes, all
clothed in white with scarcely a fleck of green. Legolas stopped,
enchanted, savouring the sweet, fresh, rain-washed air in slow deep
breaths, and gazing unblinking at the clouds of tiny white blossoms
adorning the fine twigs. Then he stepped slowly forward, seeming to
drift along the line of bushes, bending close to catch the faint
elusive scent. Gimli stood quietly and watched him, at home again in
his own world, leaving scarcely a footprint on the rain-jewelled
grass, and murmuring a little song of rain and growth under his
breath.

And Gimli marvelled, suddenly afraid to believe that this was his
chosen one, his mysterious second chance, the one fated to claim him.
He did not know how it could be, and yet it was so, if neither yet
understood what it might mean.

Then Legolas looked round at him, and the look called him to come and
see the blossoms, so he crossed the dell, treading carefully, and
quite unaware that all the hours and miles of travelling with the Elf
had subtly reshaped his body, stretching and loosening his thick
muscles, so that he now walked with a longer and lighter step than
before, and Legolas could change his flowing gait to match without
taking thought.

Now he walked quietly up to stand by Legolas and admire the little
white flowers with their golden centres. Legolas watched him take
hold of a spray and turn it about, to see how the flowers grew and
how the leaf buds and thorns were set. Then the Dwarf took a small
knife from the pouch at his belt, slid it from its sheath, and
carefully cut a twig with a few blossoms. Then he turned to Legolas,
reaching up the hand that held the blossom, to draw his head down.
Legolas understood, and stooped to let Gimli tuck the spray into the
braid above his ear, hooking the carefully chosen thorn into the
sleek shining strands of pale gold.

Another spray followed, and another: three at last on each side.
Gimli put the knife away and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Legolas tried to read the expression in his dark eyes.

'Are you thinking you could make something like this?'

'I am, and I could. The blossoms belong on the trees, though they are
fair enough to adorn your beauty.'

'It is no wonder Galadriel honoured you, Gimli Elf-friend. You speak
as Elf and Dwarf in one breath.'

Then his expression changed, and he said:

'I wonder ...'

'Wonder what, Legolas?'

'My father - what would he think of such work? He loves precious
work, almost as much as living things.'

'Ach!' Gimli snorted at the mention of Thranduil, his father's old
enemy; - 'For work such as these blossoms, it is not the use of
precious stones that counts, but skill in the making.'

'Truly I think there is an elvish strain in you!'

'And maybe a dwarvish one in you!'

Legolas laughed softly, a sound as sweet as the spring rain.

Gimli went on:

'It is as I said, a matter of seeing what truly is. No doubt I do not
see your father truly.'

'Maybe even I do not' said Legolas thoughtfully; - 'I wonder.'

'But would you like to have a springtime crown that you could wear
without breaking a single twig?'

'Yes, my dearest Elf-friend, that I would.'

'Then you shall have it, as soon as I can find in the city what is
needful for the work.'

They walked slowly on, gazing at all around them. It seemed that this
part of the land within the Rammas Echor had been kept for grazing
and forestry rather than cultivation, for it had an air of wildness
about it that pleased Legolas greatly, and made him feel more at home
than at any time since he came to the city.

The uneven ground began to slope down before them as they wandered
northwards, forming a small valley. A faint sound of running water
came from no great distance among the trees, which grew more thickly
in this place. Through the thinly clad birches, hazels and larches,
Legolas caught sight of a large mass of much darker green: a grove of
fine, tall, wide-spreading live-oaks, grander than almost any his
northern woods had to show. He ran forward with a little cry of
delight.

'Look at these, Gimli! Here is a sight I could not show you in the
Greenwood: live-oaks, an entire grove! What majesty! And all, I
think, unharmed.'

Gimli followed him, realising that the trees were unlike anything he
had seen that day.

'Live-oaks, Legolas?'

'Yes; evergreen oaks. That's what they are. The Hobbits call them
holly-oaks, and here they are holm-oaks, but they are all the same
trees. I saw some in Ithilien - there must be many there - but these
are very fine. Though we have some such at home, I see that they
favour these more southern parts.'

By this time they were under the spreading boughs, darkly canopied
with narrow, tough-looking dark green leaves, the ground beneath soft
and dry, well sheltered. Legolas walked around, touching the trunks
and branches, listening to the rustling leaves, sensing the age of
the grand and solemn trees.

'They have grown here through many lives of men; some more than four
hundred years.'

'Two lifetimes of my kindred' said Gimli. 

In the shadow of the dark, dense foliage, he felt strangely at home.
'These are most curious trees' he said; - 'I might be among the
pillars of a mountain hall that yet rustles and stirs. There is
something almost dwarvish about your live-oaks!'

Legolas smiled at him, his pale face seeming to glow softly in the
shade.

'Now that IS strange! And yet I seem to understand. Ah! We found this
place at the right moment.'

Rain pattered suddenly on the dark canopy above them, not heavily
enough to fall through. Legolas spread his cloak on the leaf litter
between the roots of one massive oak, and sat down, leaning against
the trunk. The grey-brown bark, heavily fissures in squarish shapes,
made a subtle background for his elvish beauty, and the white
blossoms of the blackthorn seemed faintly luminous in the greenish
gloom. Gimli stood for a long minute, taking in the scene before him.
Legolas held out his hands in invitation.

'Will you be content to stand and stare?'

'I do not tire of looking on you.'

Legolas' gaze flickered downwards in an odd shyness, and Gimli moved
to sit beside him, close to the mighty tree. They looked out through
the grove at the towering whiteness of the city, dappled with
fleeting cloud shadows. Legolas murmured something in his own tongue,
and Gimli caught the name of Boromir among the words.

'What was that?'

'I said that Boromir's shining city still shines, because of him.'

'That's true' said Gimli; - 'I hope the King will see to it that he
is remembered.'

'I think we need have no fear on that account. Elessar gives honour
where it is due.'

'Yes; and I think these people make memorials to their great ones,
from what I have seen about the city.'

'Indeed they do: but I have heard it said that the decay of Gondor,
and of Numenor before it, came about in part by overmuch brooding on
past glories.'

'Neither the dead nor the living should be forgotten' said Gimli; -
'Yet at times I wonder how this land of men may think of us.'

'They think us strange, as old tales abroad in the light of day: they
may grow used to us in time!'

'And others, I think, may not do so.'

'That is hard to say' answered Legolas seriously; - 'Among us, the
late-born, it is not unknown for man and man, or maid and maid, to
give their love to each other; and if the love be true, it will be
honoured.'

'And with us, also, it is accepted, if not very common, that since
our women are few, a man may take another as his life partner. Some
of our finest craftsmen have been so, and few can tell the work of
one from that of the other. Such people may be greatly respected.'
Legolas leaned closer to him.

'That is beautiful, my friend. I had never heard that of the Dwarves;
but now I know there is much I have not heard.'

'Yet having said that' Gimli went on, with something of a sigh; - 'It
will matter more in the eyes of our kindred that we are Elf and Dwarf
than that we are man and man.'

'I fear you have the truth of it there; it is another dark gate we
must pass when we come to it: no doubt more than once - a gate of the
unheard-of.'

'Unheard-of? I wonder. Did you not see the name of Narvi beside that
of Celebrimbor on the wondrous doors of Moria that are no more? Where
else is there another such thing? Friends they must have been, if not
after our fashion.'

Legolas turned a bright gaze upon him.

'It must be so: we are not altogether alone.'

'Who can say? The doors, as I believe, are gone, and only shreds of
tales remain among our people. We must make our own way when we
return home, and I can only guess at what may happen. But I would not
bring shame or sorrow on you, not for all the world; I would sooner
return to my solitude, and wear out my life in work, as I once
determined. I would sooner die that cause you pain.'

Legolas shifted to face him squarely, and laid his hands on the
Dwarf's shoulders.

'That solidtude has darkened your mind to melancholy, my Gimli. Do
not speak of such things again; do not think them, even. For I tell
you that to lose you would be the greatest pain of all to me, and
rather than sail into the West and live with memory, I would choose
to die. We have the power - I have the power, if grief is too great,
to leave the body and go to the Halls of Mandos to await the End. So
speak no more of this; for if there is shame, we will not feel it: it
will be only in the minds of those who cannot understand the compass
of love.'

'And who should understand that better than my folk, the adopted
ones?' said Gimli; - 'Yet I doubt that many will see things so!'

But the proud shining eyes of the Elf kindled an answering fire in
Gimli's heart: he would not fail his fair one. He drew Legolas close
to kiss him. Then he said:

'Whatever comes after, we only live NOW, Elf or Dwarf. So let us
live, under these dark leaves with their elvish grey lining. Surely
the forest floor is a fit bed for a wood Elf?'

Legolas laughed aloud.

'Surely!' he replied.

Then he pushed Gimli gently back into the hollow between the tree
roots and settled lightly on top of him, kissing and caressing. Gimli
held him tightly, and felt the Elf's strange body grow warmer, flushed
with the gentle heat that showed his arousal, whether or not he
experienced the response of the flesh. They twined together on the
outspread cloak, and Gimli felt the Elf's hand slide under his tunic
and inside the folds that concealed the opening of his breeches.
After that, the inexperienced Dwarf scarcely knew what was happening,
as clever fingers coaxed and steadied him for longer than he would
have thought possible, until the canopy of leave seemed to whirl
above his head, and he learned of love in the greenwood.

When he had recovered his breath, he managed to say:

'Amazing Elf! I never felt that before!'

Legolas responded with a happy chuckle, then said, more soberly:

'No, but how should you? You told me you had only two partners since
you lost your beloved ...'

'And one time I was drunk and don't remember' Gimli admitted gruffly,
and then said with a smile that Legolas could hear; - 'But now I can
learn from you. You must know so much!'

Rather to his surprise, he felt the Elf's chest rise and fall in a
deep sigh.

'And some things I would be glad to forget.'

The words were clearly heartfelt. Gimli began to wonder. He had seen
a few men in the city looking at Legolas with expressions of
unspeakable speculation. Someone at some time must have carried
speculation into action.

'If I ever do anything by mistake to remind you, tell me at once.
I'll always respect your boundaries, sweet one. Don't let me hurt you
through ignorance - and I am ignorant in these matters.'

It was dawning on him as he spoke that he had been so lost in his own
pleasure that he did not know whether Legolas had shared it fully or
not. He raised himself on one elbow and gazed tenderly at his
partner, then lightly stroked his flushed cheek, feeling the unusual
warmth of the soft skin. No, already he had learned enough to know
that the Elf still awaited the height of his enjoyment.

In a moment of inspiration he took hold of one of the braids of his
beard, and used the free end like a soft brush to stroke Legolas'
cheek and ear. The reaction was swift and left little to be desired.
Delighted giggles gave way to little gasps of pleasure until the Elf
wrapped his arms and legs around Gimli and pulled him close for a
final wild kiss before he sank back shuddering, eyes shut and chest
heaving.

When the Elf's grip relaxed, Gimli sat up and looked at him, lying in
a graceful sprawl, fine hair spread in disarray over the grey stuff
of the cloak. Somehow the blackthorn sprays had stayed more or less
put in his braids, which only added to the charm of his appearance.
Gimli watched fascinated as the soft rose-agate flush faded from the
Elf's skin, which gradually resumed its opaque ivory pallor. <How
strange and lovely> thought the Dwarf, and settled close beside him,
laying one warm broad hand protectively over the bulge of wayward
manhood: <What can it matter to us, this last-born strangeness?
Neither he nor I is the loser by this, for he seems to feel all he
should.> But his dwarvish reason was busily at work, trying to make
sense of things, beginning to suspect that what was happening to the
elves might be a transformation rather than an ending.

Legolas placed one hand over Gimli's.

'Thank you' he said in a soft husky voice; - 'Thank you for
understanding so quickly and so well. You help me forget the ones who
did not.'

Gimli sensed dimly a long vista of elven years tinged with imperfect
love, disappointment, even hurt. Was it strange that behind their
gift of brilliant joy Elves often radiated a deep sadness? And little
as he knew of Elves in general, Gimli still felt sure of this. Then
he saw Legolas' long dark eyelashes spiky with tears, and leaned
close to kiss away the sadness.

Slowly they returned to the world, realised that the rain no longer
pattered on the hard dark leaves of the evergreen oaks, that a robin
was singing somewhere nearby. They sat up and blinked as if waking
from a dream.

Gimli reached out to straighten Legolas' coronet of blackthorn
sprays, and then they stood up, shook themselves into some sort of
order, brushed the dead leaves from the back of Legolas' cloak, and
looked at their surroundings again.

'How far to the mountain, do you think?' asked Gimli.

Legolas looked through the trees.

'No more that half a mile before it grows steep' he said; - 'And I
can hear a stream at the end of this slope. Shall we go and see?'

'Yes. And we could follow the stream upward, see where it rises.'

Outside the shelter of the oak grove the grass was laden with
glittering water drops that scattered and fell as they walked. Scents
both strange and familiar rose from the plants they trod on or
brushed against, and Gimli could see that his silvan comrade grew
happier with every step, taking in all the new sights, sounds and
scents of the country, while the Dwarf himself thought that he saw
with new eyes, not looking now only for things to be turned to use or
profit, or as models for craft, but wishing to see what was before
him, whether familiar or not, simply for what it was, for its own
beauty, after the manner of the Elves.

Soon they could see the line of trees and bushes that marked the
course of the stream. It turned out to run in a stony gully, not easy
to follow at the waterside, so they turned along the top of the bank
towards the mountains, now so close that the towering snow-topped
peaks were hidden by the lower slopes and ridges.

The ground rose more and more steeply, the bare rocks more numerous,
the grass thinner and wirier, and walking became a scrambling climb.
'It is good to do this for pleasure, not to pursue or be pursued'
said Gimli, leaping up a slope of large white rocks that led to a
rough shelf on the mountain side. 

A few large juniper bushes grew among the tussocky grass.

They stopped to survey the prospect before them: the wide vale of
Anduin, with the enclosed lands of the Pelennor and the silver-blue
gleam of the river; the forests of distant Ithilien, and the hazy
mountains beyond, all dappled with cloud shadows, and here and there
a swiftly flying shower, driven by the wind from the south-west.
Looking south towards the city, they were surprised to see how high
they had climbed: only the Tower of Echthelion reared above the spot
where they now stood, proud and shining white in the spring sunshine,
with the long black and silver banners of the king streaming in the
wind.

'A fair realm' said Legolas; - 'From this distance all seems harmony,
yet we know that the signs of war are still everywhere below us.'

'That is the truth of it, dear Elf, harmony and discord together;
both visions are true.'

'This is a new age, and harmony will prevail.'

'For a time, no doubt, but these are mortal lands, where nothing is
sure but change.'

'Gloomy Dwarf! Change must be for the better!'

'And shall be, while I have any say in the matter.'

They stood for a while side by side, scanning the wide vista, and at
last Gimli said:

'I think I could spend all my days walking through Middle-earth, to
see what may be seen, if you would walk beside me. Yet doubtless in
all your years you have seen so much there will be little left to
tempt you.'

'Now there you are mistaken, my friend. Most of my life has been
taken up with guarding our kingdom against the Shadow. I believe I
know little more of Middle-earth than you, perhaps less, as I recall
you said you were a Dwarf of many travels, having seen the three
peaks of the Misty Mountains before the Quest, which I had not. I
have never been further west than Imladris, while you, I think, know
the lands as far as Ered Luin.'

'Indeed I do, for I was born there, and lived there until Smaug was
slain and Erebor freed.'

'Then shall we agree, that when our work in Gondor is done, or at
least set well in hand, to take to the roads again, in search of
Middle-earth and its wonders?'

'Why, Legolas! Do you forget so soon?' Gimli teased him; - 'Have I
not already your promise to come with me to Aglarond, and you mine to
see the Forest of Fangorn? Yes, surely I agree. Dwarves have ever
been travellers, and we have a time of peace before us, more certain
than has been these many ages.

But at this moment, there is something little better than a precipice
before us. As we go towards the city, the mountain grows ever
steeper, and we must go back to go down, or fall headlong, or else
stick to the rock as the spiders of Mirkwood to the trees!'

'I hope that the spiders you heard of from your father and from Bilbo
are gone, since Celeborn crossed the Anduin to meet my father; but
you are right, we must go back. Minas Tirith stands where it does
because n0ne may come down to the city save by falling! But look, I
can see our courtyard and terrace, greener than any other in that
quarter of the city.'

'And so it should be, having your care.'

But, though it was no more that a mile away now, Gimli was not
certain that he could make it out. Legolas stood below him on the
steep slope and put his arm around the Dwarf, trying to point so that
Gimli could sight along his finger. This was not a great success, and
they almost overbalanced into the fall that Gimli had warned of.
He grabbed at the nearest thing to save himself, and found he was
clutching a small gnarled juniper bush laden with berries. He sat
down on the wiry grass beside it, thinking but not saying <Elvish
nonsense!> then, realising what was in his hand, plucked a couple of
the white-bloomed purple berries and crushed them between his
fingers, then smelled the sharp aromatic scent.

Legolas watched with interest.

'Fine berries and plentiful' said Gimli; - 'Surely the folk hereabout
must have the art of distilling? I wonder that no one has yet offered
me a drink of gin!'

'Gin?' said Legolas; - 'Do Dwarves drink gin? I know the Woodmen and
Northmen brew it and drink it, and the Beornings also.'

'We Dwarves will drink gin as often as we can get it, you may be
sure! And doubtless more freely than is wise. But the folk would not
know that here, since I have met none in the city that has seen a
Dwarf before.'

Legolas was still chuckling at the thought of Dwarves enjoying gin.
'But you are fond of ale, and also brandy' he said; - 'r so I have
heard.'

'You have heard rightly enough' Gimli replied with a grin; - 's
craftsmen and workers in dangerous places, we may not take to drink
often, but, well, our feasts are another matter!'

'Enough to make even your stone-hard heads ache, I guess! So, let us
go back and see what may be found in the city.'

Going down proved harder than climbing up, and they were surprised by
the length of time it took to retrace their steps past the oak grove
and thence to the track leading back towards the city. It was late
afternoon when they reached their courtyard again, to be greeted by
an unmistakable smell of cooking, and a note from Sam, tucked under
the salt pot in the middle of the kitchen table, which read:

'Dear Both, Sorry I missed you. Rabbit stew on the stove, will be
even better tomorrow if you don't need it tonight. Faramir's footman
said not to forget about tomorrow. See you later, S. Gamgee.'
Gimli lifted the lid of the stew pot.

'I fear we must deny this dinner its chance to improve!'

The evening light was still bright in the sky when they finally
wandered across the courtyard to the bedroom. A few birds were
singing somewhere among the city's trees, and they stood at the
window looking out at the shadowy mountain side where they had
climbed earlier.

'These are wonderful mountains' said Gimli; - 'Could there be within
them more caverns like Aglarond to be discovered?'

'I hope not, or I might never see you again.'

'Then perhaps I should not look!'

As they prepared for bed, Legolas began to sing softly to himself,
not the sort of ornamented elvish monody that seemed to be favoured
or serious songs (and sounded strangely formless to Gimli's ears), or
the simple melodic kind with a verse and refrain, but yet another
kind of song, which the Dwarf eventually decided his people would
call 'through-composed'.

After singing it once, Legolas turned it into the Common Speech, and
Gimli guessed that the evening chorus of the birds had reminded him
of it, because the words made imitations of birdsong, with a charming
ending, like the repeated pipings that woke them in the morning.

<Oh sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet!

Oh sweet, as sweet as ere ever!

From strains so sweet, from strains so sweet,

Sweet birds deprive us never, Sweet birds deprive us never!>

Gimli listened delighted as the Elf's clear voice rose and then sank
gently into silence. 

'Now I could wish for the old lady's harp to play for you; or maybe
it would go better to the viol, though that is not an instrument I
play well.'

'Who knows what you may find in the citadel tomorrow?' said Legolas;
- 'I should love to hear you play in the quiet of this room.'

'Yet I think that music sends you quite mad, dear Elf' said Gimli,
admiring once again the lean and powerful body sliding between the
sheets; - 'And I would not have you dancing on the ceiling any time I
might take up the harp!'

Legolas smiled at him as he too climbed into bed.

'That depends on the kind of music. And the music of men and dwarves
seems to me mad music, stronger than the strongest wines of Dorwinion
at my father's feasts!'

'Mad or not, I shall need no lullaby tonight' said Gimli; - 'Now that
I know you are well again.'

'Then come here and lie as you did before, between my legs with your
head on my belly' said the Elf, sliding up his pillows.

'You'll get cold, with no covers for your arms and shoulders, unless
you mean to stifle me. You have not been long enough recovered.'

'Shall I be cold, with a Dwarf for a coverlet?' he replied, laughing;
- 'Untie your braid and spread your hair over me again.

Gimli was not convinced.

'At least put on your gown.'

'No, I do not want even that between you and me, and it is too long
to fold up.'

'Ah! Then take my nightshirt. It should serve to keep your shoulders
warm.'

Gimli fished it out from under his pillows, and Legolas agreed to put
it on, sniffing the scent of the Dwarf in the fabric as he did so. It
was just big enough, since Dwarves favour baggy shirts, though the
sleeves were very short.

Satisfied that Legolas would have some covering, Gimli moved to the
place he had been offered and wriggled into position, tucking his
left shoulder up between Legolas' thighs, letting the Elf enjoy the
sensation of Dwarf hair spreading across his stomach, hips and groin.
He settled the covers around his own shoulders, felt Legolas' hands
in his hair, and so they lay contentedly until morning.


Title: FOR CONTINUING STRANGE (19)
Author: Annie Harris
Email: annie_mouse2001@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Rating: R.
Summary: A visit to Faramir in the Citadel.
Disclaimer: The usual: No claims, no pack drill - and of course no
profit. Just living in the gaps and round the edges.
Warning: None.
Archive: Axe & Bow (group archive) LoM, others just ask. 

19

Once again they woke to the sound of rain.

'You didn't say anything about this last night, weatherbird' said
Gimli

'No, because I knew it would be the same as yesterday. Good growing
weather' he added with relish.

'Mountain weather' said Gimli; - 'Rain morning and evening, and
sunshine in between.'

After breakfast they hurried up through the levels of the city until
they came to the gates of the citadel, where they found that Gandalf
had arrived just before them. Once admitted by the gatekeepers they
stood within the shelter of the barbican and shook the rain from
their grey cloaks. Very soon Faramir arrived by a side door and
greeted them warmly before leading them off by the way he had come.
Legolas soon felt rather unsure of his whereabouts among the stone
stairs and passageways, so much larger and more complex than his home
in Mirkwood, but Gimli realised that they were being led back along
the side of the great rock spur towards the mountain, to an area that
was partly built on, and partly cut into, the spur. All the stone
work in this place was of the best; the doorways and arches adorned
with carving, the doors themselves and all the metalwork carefully
finished with simple, strong shapes and designs. Gimli looked keenly
around at everything, making noises of approval.

Legolas could see in the decoration echoes of forms he knew from his
own home and from Rivendell: this work came from a time when Elves
and men were close in understanding.

When they reached the small hall where the Chief Archivist awaited
them, and introductions had been made, Gandalf said:

'The King has given permission for you to see something of the
greatest importance, and I believe that not even Faramir has seen it,
though he has lived near it all his life.'

The Archivist then ushered them into a small room lit only by a
single window of thick greenish glass. There were tall cupboards with
locked doors all round the walls, and in the centre a single table
with a flat box of brass-bound wood upon in. The old Archivist took a
small key from a chain attached to his belt and unlocked the case.
Gandalf raised the lid, to reveal a single sheet of yellowed
parchment covered with bold, firm-looking writing. Faramir, Legolas
and Gimli gathered round, though even the Elf found it very hard to
read.

'I think I can guess what this is' said Gimli; - 'Though I cannot
read it.'

'I should think you can' said Gandalf; - 'This is the document in
Isildur's hand that describes the One Ring.'

Faramir recoiled visibly, then leaned forward again, and Gandalf
pointed out the main parts of the writing.

'And this is what you were looking for, when my father let you come
down here?'

'I was looking for what this told me: I did not KNOW for certain that
this very thing existed.'

'And my father did?'

'Quite possibly: I am not certain. Though not knowing the other end
of the story, so to speak, it would have told him little he did not
know already.'

Faramir looked closely at the ancient brittle page.

'And after so long, both are gone, the Ring and its maker, and the
world is freed from evil!'

Elf, Dwarf and wizard looked at each other over the man's bowed head,
and exchanged their doubts in silence, while Gandalf's look warned
that this was not the moment to speak their own thoughts on the
future of evil in Middle-earth.

The Steward straightened up.

'There must be other treasures here, unknown, forgotten or kept
hidden. Now at last we will have peace to learn our own lore.'

'A worthy ambition' said Gandalf; - 'But I think that you intended to
see other things today?'

'Of course' said Faramir; - 'My apologies. We must go on to the music
rooms.'

Then he explained how it came about that he knew of Gimli's musical
ability, and said how much he felt his own ignorance of the arts of
peace, and wished to see them restored.

'And I can tell you' said Gandalf, as they were led through endless
cluttered rooms and passages; - 'That such arts will shortly be
called for, at celebrations which I will ask you not to mention to
others as yet. It would be well to see something of the glory of
Gondor revived for such an event.'

His companions looked at each other and wondered.

'There is as yet no Queen in Gondor' said the wizard.

'Ah! I understand' said Legolas. - 'A Queen there will be, and you
and I have beheld her, friend Gimli.'

'Then a welcome there must be, with all the art and splendour this
city can provide. But when shall this be?'

'Soon enough' replied Gandalf; - 'The sign is still awaited, but it
will be given. Only be patient. There is a little time to learn what
may suit such an occasion. And other great ones will be here' he
added, with a meaningful look directed particularly at Gimli.

The Dwarf stopped in mid-stride and stared up at him.

'Not - not the Lady?'

'And why not? Since the mother of her whom we await is long gone into
the West, shall not her grandmother come? But no doubt I have said
too much. Do not speak of it yet a while.'

Faramir was somewhat mystified, but Legolas smiled at the expressions
on the Dwarf's face as he realised he would see Galadriel again soon.
One of Sam's ridiculous Hobbit phrases came to his mind: 'struck all
of a heap!' Then his thoughts suddenly took a more serious turn. It
would surely not take her long to see what had happened between the
two of them, and then what would she think, or say, or do? He
carefully avoided Gimli's eye, guessing that his thoughts must move
soon on the same lines.

Catching sight on a shelf of some volumes whose titles he could read,
Legolas stopped to take one down and look at it. A cloud of dust flew
out, prompting apologies from the Archivist.

'Many of our people went into war service, and some will not return.'

The dust made Legolas sneeze, much to Gimli's amusement, and the
party moved on once he had replaced the book.

'My father wished all these things to be preserved, but he allowed us
little time to learn what was here' said Faramir regretfully.

The Archivist led the way down a winding stair to a circular hall lit
by a high light-shaft cut through the rock, and as they reached the
bottom steps another old man emerged from one of the many doors
opening into the hall. He was the Keeper of Music, and ushered them
into a warren of stone chambers filled with an amazing disorder of
cupboards, chests, shelves and objects stacked, covered and
uncovered, from floor to ceiling: the physical record of many
centuries of the life of Gondor. Even Faramir was astonished.

'I do not remember this! And we used to think we had explored every
corner. I mean Boromir and myself.'

'There are many ways and corners here' said the old musician. - 'You
might easily forget which door you had tried between one visit and
the next. And doubtless also things have changed since you last had
the leisure to come here, my lord.'

'That is certainly true' said Faramir, turning around on the spot to
take in the clutter of documents and instrument cases that filled the
place.

Gimli needed no second invitation to start rummaging, finding viols,
flutes, harps, and exclaiming over anything of dwarvish make.
A pile of manuscripts cascaded to the floor as he opened a tall
cupboard, and everyone grabbed at the sliding, fluttering sheets.
'And what are these?'

They were covered with what did not seem to be ordinary writing.

'These are music sheets, sir' said the Keeper

'Music?'

'Yes, written music.'

'Durin's beard! I never heard of such a thing!' cried the Dwarf,
turning to Faramir; - 'Your people can write music down on paper?'

'Yes indeed, some can.'

'So what is this?'

He picked up a sheet at random and waved it before the steward.

'I regret I cannot tell you. Reading this notation is a skill I have
not learned.'

This was almost too much for the Dwarf to grasp: that a people should
have so strange an art as the capturing of music in lines upon paper,
and yet one their leaders be ignorant of it.

'There are those here who can read all the styles of writing you may
find' said the Keeper politely; - 'I have some skill myself.'

He selected a page from the disorderly heap and sang through a short
melody in a quiet but tuneful voice, pointing to the notes as he went
along. Legolas watched, and listened fascinated to the torrent of
questions with which Gimli plied the old man about the manuscripts.
He seemed especially concerned that the fixing of music on paper
would take away the freedom of performers to treat music in the way
he thought usual.

'Not necessarily' said the old man; - 'This is just a guide and an
aid to memory.'

'Hmm!' said the Dwarf, doubtfully.

Among his people, and anywhere else that he knew of, written signs
were MEANT to fix things permanently.

He opened yet another cupboard, to be greeted by an immensely long,
thinnish object, with a large bulbous swelling at one end, all
thickly wrapped in a dusty yellowish blanket.

'What's this?' he exclaimed, reaching out for the thing, both eagerly
and carefully.

'Nobody says "What's this?" in that tone of voice unless he has a
very good idea of what it is' said Gandalf, smiling.

With the help of the Keeper, Gimli took the strange bundle from the
store and laid it on top of a table covered with books and papers,
and began to unwrap it.

There emerged from the dusty bundle one of the strangest instruments
Legolas had ever seen; the body of it looked like a sort of large
lute, but the neck was as long as Gimli was tall, or longer: in fact
it was two necks in one, a normal one set into the extra-long one.
'What on earth is that?' asked the Elf, feeling inclined to laugh, a
typically elvish reaction to odd proportions.

'A theorbo' said the Keeper.

'We would call it an archlute, a great favourite of mine' said Gimli,
in an awed voice, touching and turning it gently; - 'With all its
strings. It seems to be sound and whole - perfect in fact. This is
Dwarf's work, sure enough, lord Faramir, and fine, very fine.'

He plucked the strings lightly, tapped the soundboard. Everyone could
hear the sweetness of its resonance. Though badly out of tune, the
extraordinary instrument seemed to be coming to life under his hands.
The others gathered round the Dwarf as he cautiously began to retune
the remarkable thing. The sound soon lured a couple of other men out
of some corner or other, and they leaned in a doorway, fascinated by
what was happening.

After some time, Gimli was satisfied with the tuning. When he lifted
the archlute from the table and rested the body on the toe of his
boot to check the broad support strap, the scrolled end with the
tuning pegs for the long sympathetic strings reached above his head,
a bizarre sight indeed, and Legolas had trouble keeping a straight
face.

It seemed the very last thing for a Dwarf to play, but once the
Keeper had helped Gimli sling the strap around his shoulder to
support the instrument and the Dwarf had settled himself on a stool,
he was clearly quite at home.

Very softly, he began to strum a series of chords in a gentle lilting
rhythm, and then to sing quietly, as if he were conversing with the
instrument, questioning it, finding out about it. Legolas forgot all
thoughts of laughter and listened, suddenly enchanted. Surely
Galadriel herself would love such music.

Gimli stopped playing, unhooked the strap, and made a few more
adjustments to the tuning. Then he started looking very closely at
the instrument, all over, searching for something.

'This is Dwarf's work, I know, but I cannot see the maker's mark.
Surely no-one would leave so fine a piece unsigned.'

Eventually he found it, a small runic mark carved on the back of the
top scroll, a name he did not know, in a very ancient style.

'I cannot believe it is so old! We have not made the letters in this
way for centuries. It must have come from Khazad-dûm in the great
days! And it has been well cared-for ever since.'

He bowed to the Keeper.

'I very much regret, my lord, that its history is unknown to us ,
though it could well be that it is written among the scrolls and
papers that have lain here unread for so long.'

Gimli fastened the strap again, and Legolas moved closer, the better
to see and hear the magic of dwarvish art. Gimli resumed his careful
exploration of the instrument, and finally handed it to Legolas, who
was further astonished by its extremely light weight.

'Just hold it, Legolas, and feel how it quivers in response even to a
quiet voice nearby: that is a sign of the finest workmanship.'

The Elf held the instrument in both hands, and realised instantly
that it seemed more like a living thing than a work of craft. Small
wonder that Gimli admired it so.

Eventually Gimli said:

'If your store rooms hold a finer instrument than this, lord Faramir,
it will be a treasure indeed.'

Reluctantly he laid the archlute aside, and joined in the
investigation of harps, viols, flutes, shawms, and a sackbut
('trombone' said Faramir) from which the Dwarf drew a loud melodious
flourish of resounding golden notes that brought a small shower of
dust and dead moths from the rafters, before declaring that this was
an instrument which he had never learned to play.

Legolas discovered a little stack of books full of elvish songs and
was soon lost in study, for, like most of his Silvan kindred, he was
fonder of song than of instrumental music.

Faramir meanwhile was discussing with the Archivist and Keepers a
plan for proposing to the King that the Company of Court Music should
be revived. This ancient part of the royal household of Gondor had
been largely pensioned off by Denethor, with the exception of the
military musicians (including harpists and praise-singers) and a few
administrators, but Faramir now discovered, with a sense of something
like dismay, as well as pleasure, that those musicians too old for
military service, and any interested lads too young, had quietly
continued to meet and rehearse in private homes, keeping the
traditions and skills alive against the coming of better times. To
augment their numbers and spread their knowledge, they had also begun
to teach women and girls to an extent that had not been usual in the
past, and had discovered a new wealth of talent in the city.

While a part of Faramir's thought reflected sadly on the destructive
side of his father's protection, another part was glad to see how
quickly much that he had believed lost might spring back to life, and
he was soon deep in discussion with the Keepers and Gandalf about
preparations for the coming events.

After several minutes they were aware of someone singing - two voices
singing, in fact, a duet of high and low, Elf and Dwarf: for Legolas
had found in one of the books an old song that he knew and was
teaching it to Gimli, who had then taken up the amazing archlute
again and begun to improvise an accompaniment. Everyone stopped
talking to listen to the new harmony of elven and dwarvish voices as
they tried to find a balance of sound that would do justice to both.

'I'm not sure about this' said Gimli at the end of one verse; - 'My
voice blends well enough with the voices of men, but I cannot match
yours for clarity - we seem like oil and water, and that doesn't make
for good music. I would rather play for you to dance.'

Legolas agreed reluctantly, but said that perhaps a different kind of
song would work better - after all, the melody they had tried was
elvish and made for Elves' voices. Gimli said no doubt there was
something in that.

Then Faramir, remembering the evening at the guesthouse, asked:

'What was that music you played on the old lady's harp, Gimli? I
never heard the like.'

Gimli smiled:

'I am sure you did not. That was Dwarves' music, "Flames of the
Forge", and any Dwarf who learns music, which is most of us, has to
play it on whichever instrument he favours.'

He played the asymmetrical opening chords, at the same time thinking:

<What's come over me, telling these things to others? I'll be
teaching Legolas Khuzdul next!>

But he started to play the dance of the flames, and saw the music
take hold of Legolas just as it had done before, and make him sway
gently to its rhythm even though there was no space in the cluttered
room for dancing.

A small audience had materialised by now, and all applauded as Gimli
finished playing, intrigued by the strange music and impressed by the
Dwarf's skill. Faramir even said he would ask the King if the
archlute could be given to Gimli, but Gimli was firmly against
removing the instrument from the surroundings that had preserved it
for so long.

'It should not be taken from here until it has been completely
re-strung (these strings are much worn and will not last a deal
longer) and has been played regularly for some time. Taking it out
and down to our house could destroy it. But I thank you for the
thought, my lord.'

The Chief Keeper of Music expressed his approval of Gimli's words -
it was clear that the Dwarf was rising in his estimation with each
passing minute - and invited him to come and play the instrument
whenever he wished. Gimli promised to do so, thinking of the coming
of Galadriel. He must revive his skills for the Lady.

Faramir then invited his guests to take their midday meal with him,
and they went up into his quarters, high above the city and enjoyed a
pleasant meal and conversation with the young lord who would be their
master under the King in years to come, and with the wizard whose
guidance had brought them to this time of hope.

Faramir had more questions to ask than he could put in order, but he
often returned to Boromir, still striving to understand what had
happened to his brother.

'If Boromir had brought the Ring here ...' he began, but Gandalf
interrupted him.

'There is no 'if' about it! You do not quite understand, and neither
did he, till the last minute. He wanted to use the power of the Ring,
or thought he did, but if he had taken it, that wish alone would have
ensured disaster, for the Ring in fact wanted to use him. Firstly, he
would no longer have been willing to give it up, even to his father:
Bilbo remains the only one to have resigned it voluntarily - even
Frodo did not at the end - he could not come between Smeagol and his
destiny, though he intended to destroy it and believed he would!
Then, secondly, his mind and the whereabouts of the Ring would have
been instantly revealed to Sauron, who would have lost no time in
taking it from him by force, with results we may be glad we do not
need to imagine.

I have to say that if Denethor thought that his son would bring the
Ring here and freely give it to him, even HE did not truly understand
its nature. But I say to you again, Faramir, that your brother died
victorious, and heard the King tell him so.'

A clearer understanding began to calm Faramir's thoughts about his
brother, and the talk turned to happier things before they parted and
Elf and Dwarf returned to their home.


Title: FOR CONTINUING STRANGE (20)
Author: Annie Harris
Email: annie_mouse2001@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Rating: R.
Summary: Gimli makes a gift for Legolas.
Disclaimer: The usual: No claims, no pack drill - and of course no
profit. Just living in the gaps and round the edges.
Warning: None.
Archive: Axe & Bow ,LoM, others please ask.
 
20

Over the following days, Legolas began to see more of Gimli the
artist and craftsman, as he set about making the promised springtime
crown of blackthorn sprays. The Dwarf's creative spirit simmered with
frustration as he decided what he wanted to do but did not have his
familiar tools and materials to hand; not only that, the mere fact of
embarking on an original task of making seemed to spark new ideas,
and by the end of two days Gimli's mind was full of pictures of
cunningly wrought flower headdresses.

The swelling buds on a little may tree on the terrace conjured a
vision of Éowyn crowned with hawthorn blossom, creamy-white amid
green leaves. Other images formed as he saw glowing stars of blue
beside the courtyard fountain and stairway cascade: forget-me-nots
for Galadriel, and something that he thought of as the Gondor
speedwell, from the flower it most resembled, for Arwen.

But first, the blackthorn for Legolas. To find silver of the right
quality, gold wire, green jade and fine white shell, and all the
tools he would need, and the right potions to pickle and colour the
silver, Gimli scoured the markets and workshops of the city, aided by
some or all of the hobbits and the tireless Bergil, living at a fever
pitch of joy since his father had been made commander of Faramir's
guard.

The party, however constituted, whirled about the city, gaining an
great reputation for madness, and eventually finding what the Dwarf
needed for his work. Frequently Legolas felt that he was being
dragged along in the wake of a force he did not fully understand: the
crafts of his people were mainly of a practical nature, despite his
father's love of rich finery.

Even when he spoke of herb-lore with Sam, it was clear that there was
a world of difference between the Hobbit's gardening and the Elf's
tending of the wild, and when it came to acquiring goods, he found
that hobbits, dwarves and men all shared a fondness for haggling and
bargaining that was at odds with the more absolute ideas of Elves,
even after all their long years of dealing with the other peoples.
He found the bargaining utterly perverse, since may were ready to
give freely to members of the King's Fellowship, and the process
showed a ridiculous tendency work backwards, which irritated him
greatly at first, but ended by reducing him to unseemly mirth
whenever Dwarf or Hobbit tried to persuade a seller to take more
rather than less.

When the mad dash of buying was over and Gimli started work in
earnest in his improvised workshop, there was time to sit down and
reflect a little on what he was finding out. He would sit quietly by
the table and watch the Dwarf at work, hammering silver, heating or
filing it; polishing, drilling tiny holes for wire attachments of
incredible fineness ... though the fumes caused by heating the weird
concoctions that turned the silver twigs to blackthorn drove him out
into the fresh air, and the sound of the scraper that formed the
slices of white shell into translucent flower petals set his teeth on
edge.

Gimli worked long hours, slowed by unfamiliar tools, even toiling
into the night, once he had obtained the right type of lamp crystal
and fine oil to give a strong enough light. 

Slowly the sprays took shape and blossomed, each tiny flower with its
yellow centre and stamens, each twig different from the others, until
all six lay completed on the old oak table, and the Elf had to admit
he could scarcely fault the imitation of life.

Then came the final touch: instead of leaving the sprays to be worn
individually, Gimli formed them into a sort of open-ended coronet by
fixing them to a fine stiff gold band, the colour of Legolas' hair,
that could be concealed in wear to give the illusion of separate
clusters of blossom. There were even a few raindrops of crystal on
the white petals, in memory of that showery day in the foothills of
the mountain. 

Legolas watched the exquisite gift take shape, the first visible
token of their love, and marvelled at the skill of the maker, the
harmony of hand and eye working the transformation of materials, and
at the same time puzzled over the force of the drive to create. <It
must be> he thought <the spirit of Aulë himself that burns in his
children. They had another beginning; they alone of the speaking
peoples did not learn their language of the Elves; they are like and
unlike, and will always be a mystery, even this one who is dearer to
me than all who dwell in Middle-earth. A mystery - one who can make
such things as were never seen before, as his people were made, in
the deeps of time.

And this imitation of the fleeting beauty of nature in a durable
form? Why do that? Is it the brevity of their lives that drives
dwarves and men to such work, to hold the moment because they have so
little time to look at things in bloom? >

The Elf seemed to feel a cold hand grip his heart - a heart given for
ever to one who would grow old and die, unless - unless ...

He hardly dared to look ahead or hope; he must do as Gimli said and
seemed to do: live now, live in the moment, make it all-encompassing
by leaving off the elvish wandering of thought to and fro across time
as if it were a landscape to be traversed in any direction, crossed
and recrossed at will, while to the Dwarf time was a rolling stream,
that would never flow backwards.

A final filing of a sharp-edged piece of shell and the work was done.
Legolas returned from his thoughts to see Gimli turning the circlet
between his hands, inspecting it one last time.  The crystal
raindrops winked in the clear white light of the lamp. 

Gimli stood up and walked round to where the Elf sat.

'It is done. What think you?'

He sounded gruff and matter-of-fact as ever, but Legolas knew enough
now to recognise a warmer colour in his ruddy cheeks, a slight
uncertainty in his glance: he had worked as well as he knew, but
would it be good enough for his Elf? This lack of confidence where he
was concerned both touched and worried Legolas, and it seemed to be
getting worse, not better, as their intimacy grew. He wanted the
opposite to happen, and could not see how to bring it about.

He took the circlet from Gimli's hands and studied it in completion
for the first time, then raised his eyes to meet the Dwarf's with an
expression full of love and wonder.

'Only one who sees clearly could do this' he said, remembering words
spoken some time before, and heard Gimli utter a relieved sigh, as if
he had been holding his breath awaiting the verdict. 

'Put it on for me please, dear Gimli.'

Gimli took the circlet and, lifting the back braid of the Elf's hair,
slid the thin gold band, no more than a broad flattened wire, round
his head and let the braid fall back over it before tucking the
curved ends out of sight under the narrow side braids. The
blackthorns sprays, three at each side, now seemed to rest in his
shining hair as the real ones had done, stuck into the braids in a
casual springtime adornment.

Gimli fussed over the adjustment of the band, making sure it was
hidden, and Legolas moved restlessly, impatient to see the effect in
the looking-glass in the bedroom.

'Fidgety Elf! What has become of the stoat and the rabbit now?' Gimli
teased him gently.

And Legolas realised with surprise that Gimli's touch no longer
stunned him as before. 

'It was because I could not admit how much I wanted your touch; but
now I know - and so do you.'

He felt Gimli's kiss on the top of his head, and pushed gently
upwards in response, like a stroked cat.

'Well now, come and admire your reflection.'

Gimli took up his bright lamp and led the way into the bedroom. When
Legolas stood before the glass, he saw how well the Dwarf's skill had
succeeded, and saw his own smile of delight reflected in Gimli's
face.

'It is a wonder!' Said Legolas, and turned to thank his lover with a
long kiss.

'You are the inspiration. Without you I would never see the flowers.'

Once in bed, with the circlet resting on the console table below the
small window that faced the mountains, Legolas devoted long minutes
to massaging Gimli's neck and shoulders, where the heavy muscles had
tensed with hours of concentration on the fine and delicate work. The
knots were soon smoothed away by the archer's strong fingers, and
Gimli was almost purring with contentment by the time Legolas undid
his thick braid and combed it out with his fingers. Gimli sighed and
relaxed on his pillows. Tonight the massage would not send him
straight to sleep: tonight he would take pleasure with his beautiful
Elf.

Legolas wore his blackthorn chaplet regularly thereafter in that
unique month of May and the days that followed at the dawn of a new
age. It attracted so much admiration that Gimli was in danger of
being forced into business as a jeweller and had to exercise the
greatest firmness and courtesy in refusing commissions. At the same
time, however, he was planning in his mind gifts for the three great
ladies and looking out for what he would need, while also finding
time to visit the court musicians.

The group which had sprung to life again like poppies in new-turned
earth had been granted the use of a fine panelled hall in the palace
for practice, and Gimli became a regular member. The Keeper of Music
had obtained a complete new set of strings for the archlute, and
would let no-one fit them but the Dwarf himself. 

Legolas went with him everywhere, quiet and self-effacing, a sort of
golden shadow to the energetic Dwarf, who knew himself to be a master
of many arts and crafts among the people of Gondor and conducted
himself with a corresponding authority. Legolas watched and admired,
and loved to see him shine, realising with gladness that many people
there saw the Dwarf with something approaching his vision, and hoped
that Gimli would be responsible for a change for the better in the
attitudes of Men towards the Dwarves.

For some days Gimli and his band of helpers searched the city for
materials, tools, and crucially, a workshop, suitable for the enamel
work he now wanted to do, and at last found, through a chain of
reference and recommendation, and aged craftsman named Bergthor,
living in a tiny room off a courtyard on the first level of the city,
in the furthest south-west quarter, about as far from their house at
it was possible to go. A tunnel straight through the spur of the
mountain, said the Dwarf, would be a great convenience to the city!
Bergthor had a workshop on the floor above his room, and because of
his advanced age and physical frailty made but little use of it. When
eventually a friend from the craft guild to which he belonged brought
Gimli, accompanied by Legolas, to meet the old man, the Dwarf was
able to find what he wanted.

Initially the old man was almost overwhelmed by the appearance of two
of the King's companions in his poor home, and it seemed for a time
that he might turn them away in sheer confusion and embarrassment,
but once his fellow craftsman had persuaded him to let Gimli see the
workshop, and Bergthor had realised that the Dwarf was a craftsman
too, the talk turned to rent and matters progressed, for the old man
was barely able to support himself and relied frequently on his
family and his Trade Guild.

Legolas clinched the deal by kneeling before Bergthor to allow him to
see at close quarters the blackthorn circlet which his failing sight
had taken at first for real flowers. The old man, marvelling at the
beauty of both work and wearer, soon agreed terms for Gimli to use
his workshop, and the pair quickly found themselves with new friends
in the city among the family and neighbours of Bergthor.

The days passed swiftly between workshop, music room and the public
places of Minas Tirith, with occasional visits to court. Elf and
Dwarf were on increasingly good terms with all parts of society,
though Legolas did tend to glaze over if Gimli became involved in
some intensely sensible discussion of drainage and refuse disposal
with an Assistant Clerk of the Works. His reward for this was a brief
lecture on the central importance of drains to a numerous settled
civilisation.

'A well-constituted society,' said the Dwarf, over the evening meal
(prepared and served on this occasion by Sam, who listened with
amusement) - 'must make provision for all aspects of nature. Drains,
and earth closets, night-soil collectors, chamber-lye for the dyers,
and so forth, may remind us that there's nothing lower than nature,
but she still goes as high as heaven.'

This remark put a different smile on Sam's face, and drew a sort of
bewildered agreement from the Elf: wood Elves and 'numerous settled
civilisation' do not mix, or not for long, and while Gimli worked in
Bergthor's workshop, Legolas would often go out of the city,
sometimes with one or other of the hobbits, sometimes alone, to
escape from the confining walls of stone; but he always went to the
music room, and sometimes sang with the court musicians, or played a
small harp, the only instrument he had ever learned. His singing was
especially admired by the musicians, and he found that his voice
would blend well with those of the men and women trained in the
courtly singing style of Gondor - blend much more readily than with
those of the visitors to the guesthouse. He even felt envious of
Gimli, who could use his 'velvet' tone in courtly song and a louder,
more strident voice with the folk singers.

One day he had to take the small harp down to Gimli's rented workshop
to have some of the tuning pegs fixed because they had started to
slip, and found the old craftsman Bergthor unwell and feeling unable
even to climb the outside stairs to the workshop. The Elf therefore
sat with him in his neat, cramped little room while Gimli worked on
the harp up above, and listened to the old man's memories of past
years in the city and the gathering of shadows that he had never
thought to see lifted in his lifetime.

Bergthor showed Legolas the few pieces of his work that he most
treasured, including enamelled jewellery made for his wife who had
died more than twenty years earlier. Legolas turned the delicate
pieces, glowing with light and colour, in his hands and felt the love
that had inspired them, seeing in the old man's face the same force
that drove Gimli to create beauty from cold metal and gemstones of
the earth for him. Surely all the kindreds of the earth should live
together in greater friendship from now on: despite all differences,
they had so much in common.

Legolas listened to the old craftsman's slow and rambling talk until
Gimli brought the repaired harp down to him, and when he had struck a
few chords to try it, he saw that the man would love to hear its
music, so he stayed and played quietly, elvish tunes or his own
improvisations, while Bergthor dozed on his narrow bed. The sounds
floated faintly up through the stone floor of the workshop to Gimli's
ears as he laboured at his self-appointed tasks, and his heart was
filled with tenderness for the Elf who treated the old man so kindly.

Some time later, Bergthor's daughter arrived with two of her
children, bringing food for the old man. They were all very shy of
Legolas to begin with, but grew less wary as they saw that the old
man regarded him as a friend. Legolas soon understood the concern in
the daughter's heart, and felt the chill of mortality as he looked at
the signs of age and the approaching end.

In all his long years, he had never been close at any time to a
mortal so near to natural death. Many of the Dunedain whom he had
known had met their deaths early in battle - but that was also the
fate of some Elves. He had never witnessed the advance of change and
decay like this, and believed he could see a difference from day to
day of their brief acquaintance. He even tried not to see it, though
his innate compassion drew him back to the old man who seemed to
enjoy his company.

Now he retreated politely from the little room, to let the woman tend
her father, and sat down on the steps outside in the sunshine, which
seemed veiled by a chill cloud in his mind. He waited for Gimli to
finish his day's work, and call on Bergthor to say that although he
wished to rent the workshop for at least another two weeks, he would
not be back for a couple of days as he was needed to help the Keepers
of Music with instrument repairs.

The Dwarf was pleased with the progress of his flower crowns and
talked cheerfully as they walked home. Legolas tried to respond as he
usually did, and thought he had managed quite well, but Gimli said as
they ate their supper:

'Stone walls and workshops do not suit you, dear Legolas. I think it
will end by making you ill. We must go out into the green world
tomorrow: at least you must. Perhaps Sam or Merry would go with you
if I cannot.'

Legolas protested:

'I would rather stay with you, and I enjoy the music.'

'Then we shall go the next day,' Gimli promised. - 'Now come to bed.'

Though Gimli felt tired, more by concentration than physical work, he
responded readily to the Elf's lovemaking, and fell into a deep sleep
afterwards with Legolas pressed close to his side; but part of his
mind seemed to keep working, recognising something strained in the
Elf's manner, and he woke in the deep darkness of the second hour
after midnight with his anxiety already well developed. Legolas had
moved away from him, but he could sense the tension in his
outstretched body and hear the over-controlled shallow breathing.

'Legolas?'

The Elf started. He had been too preoccupied to notice that Gimli had
woken up.

'Legolas, what ails you? Is the black spell returning? Would you
rather be out of the city?'

Legolas stirred uneasily.

'No, no; it is not the spell.'

'Yet it is something.'

Gimli sat up and reached for his little tinder box on the chest by
the bed. He struck a spark and lit his candle. Now he could see
Legolas lying flat on his back, unable to disguise the sadness in his
face.

'Tell me, dear one, what is it that grieves you? If it is not the
black spell or the city, is it Master Bergthor? Ah! I see that I
strike nearer home. Is it not so?'

'He is dying, is he not?' asked Legolas faintly.

'I think he has not long to live'; Gimli replied; - 'It may be weeks
or months, but he is ninety years old, and that is a great age among
men who are not of the blood of Numenor.'

'So he is as he is through age alone?'

'Yes; I believe he has no particular illness.'

Legolas shivered, thinking of the failing strength, the watery eyes,
the gnarled hands loosing their skill. And time alone did that.
'You have never really seen this, have you, old age? Never lived
close enough to men to know ...'

Then a further suspicion dawned: or to dwarves.

'Or to dwarves?'

'No! I did not mean that! I have seen your father, and others: they
are not like this man. It is my own ignorance of the world I must
live in the future - how can I bear it?'

Gimli had learned something of the tales that told of the Elves'
reactions when they first discovered Men, the Followers, and
understood from this and from what Legolas had said earlier about the
life of mortals that the Elf was experiencing his own version of this
shock.

Deliberately, he spoke in his most dwarvish manner.

'Now listen, Elf! I'm not at my best at this hour of the morning, but
at least I have rested, and I know that you are awake and miserable,
and I will not leave you thus.'

Legolas lay staring up at him with wide dark eyes, hands knotted
together on his chest.

'The compassion you feel for these mortals does credit to your gentle
heart, but do not let it grow into useless sorrow. You cannot change
their lives by it - but you could change ours!'

Now he saw that he was winning Legolas' attention.

'You could spoil what we have by this grieving over what might be but
is not yet. Truly I believe that you could bring about what you fear.
The Lady said many things to me that I heard only in my mind. I did
not understand clearly, and therefore fear that I do not remember
well; yet some things become plainer as time goes on.

I know she suggested that with the Ring I might go back to Khazad-dum
and make it great again, but I replied that not even the Dwarves can
cross the same river twice. Then afterward, when she had given me the
lock, she told me that the gift would be greater if both were strong.
I thought then that she was telling me not to divide it between the
halls of my kindred, as I imagined I might, meaning by 'both' myself
and the gift. But now I think she foresaw what would befall us, and
meant that her gift would aid us, you and me, all the better if we
are strong in our own bond.

To me she promised only new ways, strange ways, to be trodden one
step at a time, with no turning back. To you she showed dark,
half-closed gates; and yet the same thing is true for both of us. If
I seek to descry the end of my road, I will fall into the pit that
lies before my next step; if you fear that your last gate will not
open, when you do not yet know where it lies, you will hardly pass
the first.'

He laid one hand on Legolas' clenched fists, and felt him relax a
little.

'Do not darken your heart with grief for what you cannot change. Men
must take their own way out of the world which we cannot follow. But
I believe what the Lady said. I believe that what MAY be WILL be, if
we make it so.'

'If we make it so! I will need all your strength for this, beloved
Gimli.'

'As I will need yours, beloved Elf.'

Legolas' hands uncurled and clasped Gimli's.

'Then we will make it so.'

'We will make it so;' echoed the Dwarf, and bowed his head to kiss
the sweet lips that promised. Legolas sighed.

'I must grow accustomed to the world of mortal men, for we have long
years of work before us here.'

'We have, and you will. Fear not.'

Gimli turned and blew out the candle.

'This will not be resolved by talking away even the whole of one
night. Come close and sleep, and tomorrow we shall do tomorrow's
task, and do it well. That shall be our way.'

Legolas moved to lay his head on Gimli's shoulder, while the strong
left arm slid under his neck and clasped him. With his cheek against
the bushy side of Gimli's beard, he heard the Dwarf's steady
heartbeat and felt his spirit soothed.

Gimli was aware of a slight warming of the cool elvish limbs twined
about him, and knew that Legolas' trouble was fading away into sleep.
He pressed a kiss against soft hair in the darkness.

'Sweet dreams, sweet Elf.'

A gentle murmur came back:

'I need no dreams now I have you.'

The next day's work went well, up in the music rooms. Legolas soon
learned to help Gimli with re-stringing the instruments, using skills
he already had from bowmaking, and leaving the tuning and testing to
the Dwarf. Nevertheless there was work for another half day before
the court musicians could start serious preparation for the further
celebrations that would come. But once that work was done, Gimli kept
his promise to go out into the green world again, and the two left
the city and wandered off across the countryside to which normal life
was already returning.

Flocks and herds that had been driven south or into the hills were
gradually coming back to their pastures, and the ruined homes and
farm buildings were being worked on by all who could be spared to
help. This time, however, Elf and Dwarf did not join in, but sought
out the quieter places in the foothill and walked among the
woodlands, watching spring make haste into summer.

Suddenly Gimli noticed among the hawthorns laden with blossom like
snow a single tree clothed in deep pink, rich as any rose, and turned
towards it.

'What is this tree, Legolas? It smells like may, but I never saw such
a may-tree before.'

The small, gnarled old tree drooped its flower-laden branches towards
the earth, and Legolas smiled to see the Dwarf as he stood holding a
spray and leaning close to it, first smelling the perfume, then
peering at the flowers and comparing them with the creamy white ones
on the next tree.

'It is a red hawthorn, Gimli. They are not common, but they do grow
in Mirkwood and all over the northlands.'

'And next you will tell me that I never saw them because I never
looked, but kept my dwarvish nose to the earth, and perhaps you would
be right; but now I look and now I see, and am glad that I began my
work with the crown of Arwen, because now I shall make pink may
blossom for Éowyn, since she stands alone among women as this tree
among its fellows.'

Then he took his little sharp knife and cut a good spray from the
branch to carry home for study.

The next thing he remarked upon was the sharp greenish ochre colour
of the young oak leaves that were now veiling the dark branches, as
he realised that he could recognise these trees at a distance,
marvelling at the brilliant colouring of the tender leaves when seen
against the light of the clear sky.

He caught the sound of Legolas' soft affectionate laughter at his
enthusiasm, and said:

'I must seem as ridiculous and ignorant to you as ever any Dwarf did
to elven king, to have lived so long on earth and not know what
spring is like!'

Legolas' expression changed in an instant to great seriousness.

'Ridiculous? Never! And this spring is like none other that I have
known, for I see it with you. And it is a gift beyond price to see
again for the first time something so well known and loved. You make
the world strange again.' 

Gimli turned to face him squarely, with a very dwarvish look. It took
him a couple of seconds to work out what it was he had heard. Then
his expression changed to the warm gentleness that had first started
to work its magic when Legolas had seen him try to comfort the
hobbits in Lórien.

'Only an Elf could say a thing like that, or even manage to think it;
he said, smiling.'

Legolas looked at him gravely.

'Perhaps only an Elf would need to think it.'

'Crazy Elf! One minute you laugh at me, and the next you seem ready
to cry for the same reason. No wonder my grandmother would call us
'flighty as Elves' when we tried her patience!'

That made Legolas smile again at an imagined vision of the young
mischievous Gimli and his little friends and relations. 

'Tell me about your grandmother, and whom you mean by 'us', and
anything you think an ignorant Elf should know but never troubled to
learn.'

And so Gimli told him tales of his childhood in far Ered Luin, in
between discoveries of the springtime world as they walked, until
evening sent them back to the city and their peaceful home. The city
jackdaws were flying back to their nests with soft chonking cries,
and Gimli eyed the neglected roofs and turrets where the birds had
made their roosts with dark suspicion.

'I don't know what the winters are like here, but I should think a
half-decent gale would bring some of that down about our ears. There
is work everywhere I look!'

'And I should think you are not the only one who knows it!'

'Too full of my own importance, am I?'

'You reshape my words as quickly as you did my silver circlet, but
not to such good effect! Cunning Dwarf!'

They laughed, and once within the gate of the courtyard house, joined
hands as they went up the steps to supper, bath and bed.