***For Luinë, for her birthday, July 8***

Legolas in the Council

“I will take it!” I froze. Gandalf turned towards the small voice. I saw the pain and the pride in Mithrandir’s face as he turned to face Frodo. “I will take the Ring to Mordor,” Frodo said again, and this time everyone heard him plainly. “Though… I do not know the way.”

Gandalf came forward, smiling. “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”

Aragorn suddenly surged to his feet and knelt before the hobbit. “If, by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.” Aragorn stood.

Smiling slightly, I, too, came towards the hobbit. “And you have my bow,” I said, taking up position beside Gandalf.

“And my axe.”

Oh, not him! The Dwarf, Gimli took up his post beside me. I now rued my decision to join this fellowship. I would have to cope with a stiff necked, rude, disgusting, ugly Dwarf for the rest of this quest.

Legolas in Hollin

“If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I note they’ve not, I would say we’re taking the long way ‘round!” With that, the stiff necked Gimli came towards Gandalf, a happy, burning glint in his eye. “Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome!”

I shook my head. Dwarves! The Mines would be no place to go. From what I had heard, no word had been sent from the company of Dwarves within the Mines for months. What idea possessed the Dwarf to think that perhaps the Ring would be safe within the underground realm? Besides that, I was loath to enter the Mines. Cold, dark, inhospitable and no stars or trees for days. And what of the Dwarves? If indeed they were still there, I had no desire to enter a group of ruckus Dwarves.

“No, Gimli,” Gandalf said. “I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice.”

I heard the hobbits and Boromir behind me, now playing at their fencing lesson, but it was nothing more than a distraction for me. There was a dark shape winging towards us. I ran past the Dwarf to stand upon a rock.

“What’s that?” I heard Sam ask.

“Nothing!” Gimli dismissed. “Just a wisp of cloud.”

Dwarves! Was there no end to their credulity?

Legolas in Moria

“Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves!”

I could hardly wait. Of all the joys in Middle Earth, the one I was not looking forward to was the “…fabled hospitality of the Dwarves.”

“Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin… and they call it a mine. A mine!” He seemed to be scoffing at the name.

“This is no mine,” Boromir said. “It’s a tomb.”

We all saw the corpses of Dwarves littering the floor.

Gimli ran from one corpse to another. “No…” he said. “NO!”

For the first time I saw that Gimli was not some thick and simple creature. My heart wrenched to hear his pain. I understood him a little more.

Gimli at Balin’s Tomb

“No… no,” I said. I sank to my knees before the tomb of my cousin. He was dead! How could that be? All my being was taken up but the thought of the impossible; Balin was dead. Somehow, I knew Gandalf came up beside me. That Elf and the humans were behind me. As usual, the hobbits scuttled around Gandalf like little goslings.

Gandalf stooped over the tomb, reading its carvings. “’Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.’ He is dead, then.” Gandalf paused. “It’s as I feared.”

All was silent for a moment.

“We must move on. We cannot linger…” that Elf said. How could he? How dare he? Is it so much to ask of him some few seconds to mourn my kin? But, no. We must move on, he says. I could hate him forever, yet I understand his words. Despite myself I realize that he speaks true. This is no place to linger. That Elf was correct, though I knew he could see my grief.

Gimli in Loríen

“A lament for Gandalf,” he said, listening to the Elvish chant. It made me sad and uncomfortable. These Elves seemed to know just what you were thinking, a very disconcerting trait.

“What do they say about him?” young Merry asked.

I saw the glimmer of pain in the Elf’s eyes. But, then, I was tired. It could have been my imagination.

“I have not the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near.”

For once, I didn’t see him as some aloof, stiff Elf. For once, I saw him hurting and that made him seem so… mortal. I realized that he was more than just the archer and far-sighted look out. He was a part of this Fellowship as much as I was, or the young hobbits were. He felt for this strange company as much as I, or the humans, did. I fell asleep, and for the first time not only was I pitying the Elf, but I was thinking of him as a friend.

Gimli in the Boats

“I've taken the last of the sporting,” I muttered to myself. I did not care if the Elf could hear me or not. “For I have looked last upon that which is fairest. Henceforth I shall call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me.” I sighed, remembering the Lady Galadriel’s beauty and generosity. I did not care if the Elf laughed at me, he was of no consequence at all. I expected to hear his laughter, though, so it was a surprise when his soft, lilting voice carried no mirth.

“What was her gift?” he asked.

In any other situation, I probably would have snapped that it was none of his business, but I could not. “I asked her for a single hair from her golden head.” Now I knew the laughter would come. It did not. “She gave me three.”

I sensed that Legolas was smiling, but he was not laughing. He understood.

Legolas Before the Falls of Rauros

The boats were pulled up out of the water. Aragorn looked up at us from taking out parcels from one of the boats. “We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the North.”

I nodded, but Gimli had other ideas. “Oh, yes?” he asked. “Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil: an impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks. And after that, it gets even better! A festering, stinking marshland, far as the eye can see.”

I looked over at Gimli, smiling slightly, noticing Pippin sitting beside the Dwarf looking amazed and terrified.

“That is our road,” Aragorn said. “I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf.”

I could have laughed the look on Gimli’s face. “Recover my…” he stuttered. “Pay no heed to that, young hobbit!”

The End

“Hurry! Sam and Frodo have reached the Eastern shore!” Legolas cried, beginning to launch one of the boats. Gimli was right behind him, ready to follow the Elf without hesitation. Aragorn did not move, save to gaze after the two retreating forms on the Eastern shore. Legolas turned to view his human friend. “You mean not to follow them,” he stated.

“Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands,” Aragorn said bluntly.

Gimli came forward, crestfallen. “Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed!”

Aragorn came forward and placed his hand on Legolas’ shoulder, copying the gesture towards Gimli. “Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left!” He left his two friends standing on the shore. He slipped his Elvish knife into its sheath. “Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light.” Gimli looked up at Legolas, a glint of dare in his eyes. Legolas looked down at his friend, mirroring the expression in his own eyes. “Let’s hunt some Orc,” Aragorn said.

The glint in Gimli’s eyes grew as did Legolas’. “Yes!” Gimli said.

The Ranger began to run. He was followed closely by the two friends, the Elf and the Dwarf.