‘There he sits, staring off into nothingness. All my fortune for one good snowball right about now.’ Thought Gimli as he stared up all the mountains above him longingly. The Elf had made quite a target for himself, constantly standing; being rearguard, staying just separated enough to allow for some sneaky Dwarf attack. ‘Contrary to what self-centered Elves may think, we Dwarves can be quite sneaky and quiet when we need to be, we just don’t make a habit of it. We respect the other races and no not enjoy giving them heart attacks every time we come close and speak unless miserable…..’ “Gimli!” A Dwarf was not well known for his ability to jump vertically, yet this Dwarf could have easily reached the head of dragon with his startled leap. “Aragorn, what is it? I might have taken your head off.” The son of Gloin gave a menacing look to the Ranger. ‘Yes, that’s it, make them think you were on guard, Damn Elf, causing me trouble again!’ Gimli tried to quiet his thoughts. Smirking, the man continued, “I was just wishing to know if you would take a watch tonight?” A plan coming into his mind, Gimli agreed, “Of course I will take one, a later one tonight. Wake me when you wish me to stand guard.” “I shall, have a good rest.” Leaving Gimli alone with his thoughts, Aragorn wished to know why the Dwarf would seek that watch, but decided not to question what the Dwarf was planning. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ‘I shall wait till tonight, then I shall surprise that smug Elf!’ ‘He’s up to something. He’s going to try something foolish and I shall have one more reason to laugh at that pathetic Dwarf.’ Legolas, trying to keep his face as stoic as possible in order to maintain that Elvish air he laughing on the inside. ‘No wonder my father found his so annoying. They never keep to themselves and always see a need to bother those trying to remain peaceful.’ Deciding to find out what this mean little Dwarf had up his mean little sleeve, Legolas sat for the night at the base of a rock in order to tempt the other member of the Fellowship into showing his hand to the Elf. ‘He will find that whatever he’s planning will never work and he might as well accept the fact that he shall never live up to me.’ Catching his own pun, he chuckled to himself. Gimli, having not been able to sleep anyway, went towards Aragorn’s watch position on the far rock. They had been taking the passage south for many days and all welcomed a quiet night. Fears of being discovered loomed constantly over their heads. Tapping the man on the shoulder, Aragorn smiled at his comrade. “I have seen nothing out of the ordinary. Peaceful watch, Gimli.” Releasing his high point to Gimli, Aragorn climbed down towards the general area of the group. They slept near each other, but not too close. On any given night, the four hobbits would sleep closely, creating a pile of hairy feet and curly hairy heads. The two men would usually sleep a few feet away from either side, showing no distain or desire to be too close to each other. Gimli himself would find the place farthest from the Elf, said Elf usually being up a tree so, unfortunately, Gimli was often made to guess where the Elf was for he had yet to master the ability to spot the Elf once airborne. Setting himself up on the rock, Gimli could not believe his luck. There was his quarry and for the first time, he was completely on the ground. The trees were becoming more and more rare as they got father from Rivendell, and this was not the first time the Elf had been forced onto the ground, but usually he would find some isolated high rock face to hide himself out on. This ground position would make things much easier. Long ago, when Gimli had been many years younger, his father spoke to him about his treatment while in the realm of Thranduil, that annoying Legolas’ father. Gloin had recalled to Gimli how the Elves would enjoy watching them in their cages, wondering what went on in their minds, thinking them so funny and awkward looking. He never forgot that tale and swore to avenge his father’s mishandlings by those elves. Given the long life of elves, he was also certain that this Elf must have been there and, no doubt, joined in the merrymaking at his father’s and the rest of his kin’s expense. Revenge would indeed be a dish that was best served cold. Cold as mud, in this case. Spying the Elf’s constant desire to be clean and pristine, he decided not only to show how sneaky a Dwarf could get, but also how dirty an Elf could get. After scanning the horizon for anything, not to ignore his watcher duties of course, Gimli climbed down and found step one to his masterplan: Dirt. Being a Dwarf, he knew his dirt and this was of great quality, great mud creating quality. Thus, step two: Water. Taking out his water skin, he gave the dirt a good soaking a created fine and lovely mud. ‘This shall take that arrogant look off of that Elf’s face and bring him down to mingle with us mortals for a while.’ Gimli laughed to himself. After having the fun as squeezing it in his hands for a moment, something one never looses from childhood, he picked up a fair portion and proceeded on his hunting venture. ‘So, the Dwarf is trying to sneak up on me and pile mud on me, this should be quite amusing.’ Conveniently for Legolas, elves slept with their eyes open and it was perfectly fine for him to be sitting there, staring off into the distance, but secretly observing the other’s approach. Mud caked in his hands, Gimli was making good process towards the unsuspecting Elf. The terrain here was solid rock, very nice for a Dwarf to walk and creep along on, for if there had been forest debris here, he could never have gone two steps before being discovered. This was the one area where he had a distinct advantage. ‘I shall tell my father, my friends and my future children how Gimli, son of Gloin brought down one of the fair folk.’ Final steps closed the gap between the pair, both holding their breaths, both waiting for the perfect moment. Tensing Gimli held the mud closely, prepared to launch at any moment. Swinging his arm back, he was tensed and prepared when suddenly…………

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” With blurring speed, Legolas had drawn his bow from behind him and notched an arrow, however he was not aiming it at Gimli, but something behind him. Smirking, the Elf spoke once more, “Go ahead and look.” Slowly, fearing an arrow in places where arrow wounds would not be deadly, but lastingly painful and embarrassing, Gimli turned around to observe what Legolas was aiming at. His view centered on Gimli’s pick of belongings, more closely, on a long smoking pipe that was sitting onto of his pack. Had it been anyone else aiming, he would have laughed and thrown the mudball, but this was the Elf. The Elf could hit his pipe and shatter the precious smoking object and being out this far, he would go a great while before he would have one again. Already knowing the Elf’s distain for the smoke anyway, he did not wish to test the Son of Thranduil’s wish to fire. The Hobbits, Gimli knew, would never share their smoking pipes, nor were they anywhere near the fine quality of the pipe of dwarf make. Turning back around to face his challenger, the Dwarf took in his situation. Option One: Throw mud at Elf. Option Two: Drop mud and back off. Weighing each option he found pros and cons to each. The constant enjoyment of seeing a muddy elf would be something that could be hung over the immortal’s head day in and day out for the rest of their journey. However, to have to constantly face such peril without pipeweed was make this adventure turn into something he was not ready to face. Remembering back to his youth, his mind returned to a time when one silly Dwarf thought that pipeweed was something not needed for everyday life and that he was no longer going to partake of it. A sickness soon followed that quickly became legend among his people. This foolish Dwarf would shake and fidget and babble constantly about things no one cared about. Finally, he relented a rejoined the other sane dwarfs in blissful smoky heaven. However, muddy Elf. What more was there to say on that point? Having spent all this time thinking and recalling tales of his youth, he realized that neither of them had moved this whole time. Gimli still stood taught, arm drawn back, mud at the ready. Legolas sat there, bow drawn back with no sign of strain from the bowstring being stretched. Gimli knew better than to think that he could outlast Legolas in this pose, for if the Elf felt his ability to hold this posture until he finally tired, sometime next week for all the Dwarf knew, and he would just finally release the arrow and accept his muddy fate. Staring at the Dwarf, the Elf wondered what was going through that stunted head of his. ‘No doubt wondering how long I can hold this pose.’ Thinking back to Mirkwood, Legolas thought of a time when he and one of his training partners decided to try this very thing. Many hours later, his father finally made him come in. “Legolas Greenleaf, your mother went to all this trouble to make your favorite tonight and you will come in here and eat it!” The Prince gave a small shudder at the memory of his father’s powerful voice booming throughout the land. ‘I swear, the whole kingdom always knew what I was doing or if I was in trouble.’ “What do you mean you lost your books?” “Is that smoke I see coming from your room?” “You went onto the target range with ten arrows, why are there only six here now?” ‘Ai! I have to get my mind off these thoughts!’ ‘Ha! The Elf is fearful of me! Look how he shakes at my impressive stature. Must be because he is facing a real dwarf on the ground without his sneaky tall Elf tactics.’ Almost allowing a smirk to cross his face, suddenly this situation became a little more hopeful. Time passed, how long neither could really tell, neither wishing to press the situation knowing that the other would strike at the first sign of weakness. The most important factor riding on this standoff was ‘the taunt’. Elves and Dwarves were both masters of ‘the taunt’. That is, throwing everything, including the kitchen washing basin, in the form of insulting words at your opponent. The desired result being that you throw your enemy into such a fit of rage that they loose all common sense and do something stupid, like a ill-prepared full blown charge, the result of which being usually some sort of miscalculation and resulting in more embarrassment. Thus, ‘the taunt’ was a powerful weapon and this would determine which one of them would be allowed use employ such a tactics should future need arise. (Of course, knowing these two, it was a matter of how many minutes) ‘So, this Elf is a stubborn one. Must have gotten them from his father whom I heard is also this way. I wonder what would happen if you cut off those prissy pointed eartips, do they turn mortal? Would an Elf be….. SPLASH! Before either of them knew what was happening, they were drenched in very cold water, both being disarmed by its chilling affects and its general shocking nature. Looking up, Legolas and Gimli spotted a Ranger glaring down at them from on top of the rock they were feuding under. “Now, if you too are quite finished, Gimli you’re supposed to be keeping watch and Legolas, you should be resting. We will need your eyes tomorrow and you cannot travel tomorrow in reverie.” Aragorn tried to hide his laughter, but was failing miserably, as the last of his words began to shake with chuckles. “Also, the both of you might want to dry out. Gimli, you’ll catch a cold and Legolas, well, your hair might dry in a funny position.” The laughter was breaking out as he could barely hold himself up. “Come, Aragorn, that was quite childish of you.” Standing up, Legolas tried to maintain his dignity, even as a drop of water dripped of his ears and chin. “You should really be more mature.” Walking away, the squish squish squish of his walk did nothing but add to the man’s delight. Gimli, seeing the Elf stalk off, realized his hand still contained an amount of mud from his plot against Legolas. No doubt entered his mind as to who the mud would be launched at now. Fin