The Dwarf is on watch. Oh, I should not call him simply that; he is my companion and I need to think of him by his name. Gimli. Gimli, whose father quite fairly implanted hatred of all things Elvish, in particular that which is engendered through Thranduil, into his son’s breast. Ironic, truly; for I was not even home at the time. I had to hear it off Hirilcúllas later. How I laughed! Gallion was not impressed with me, but then he and I have never been very close.

I do not think the Dwarf and I shall be friends. Indeed I am not certain I might even attempt it. Surely it would be impossible.

It is a shame, for we are compatriots bound upon a quest. I should rather be friendly with him. At least we are civil; I have teeth-marks upon my tongue betimes but I remind myself it is for the good. Frodo Baggins’ task is greater than our dislike of each other.

The Ring! Of all evil things, for this to be found! And I am the more deeply grieved, for my soldiers slain and the creature released, and the unintended mischief caused. I was not present at his rescue but as the men were under my command the fault lies with me.

The Ring! Detestable, horrible creation! O that Isildur had destroyed it when he found it, or that the Halfling Bilbo Baggins left it to molder in Gollum’s cave! O that it had not been made at all; then perhaps Arda would be a better place, or at least a place less fraught with death.

I cannot sleep; I am not weary. Yet we stop at night, and the mortals eat, and the mortals sleep. Even Mithrandir sleeps. I beg to take the watches to cure me of this restlessness, but both Aragorn and Mithrandir say me nay. “It would not do to make them feel you shall always watch over them,” chided the Istar with a smile. “This fellowship is far too important to rely on but one person.”

“Besides which,” muttered Aragorn under his breath, looking round to make sure the others were not listening. “Gimli and Boromir would think you self-aggrandizing.”

That hurt me; he did not mean to hurt me by that yet it hurt nonetheless. Why should those two think such things of me? I do not think it very logical to deny I am efficacious in the dark, moreso than man and dwarf. The Halflings; they are canny and see and hear well, near as well as I; yet they need much sleep and rest, for their legs are so short and we travel so far. Why should they not use me, since I am able and quite willing? I know I am strange to them; but we shall be abroad some time; may they not grow accustomed to me soon?

It is like bees in my feet; I must get up. I rise silently, shedding my blankets, and step outside the circle of my companions. They sleep; some snore, especially the Halflings. I smile, seeing Peregrin’s bag upon the perimeter; I lift it, and flit lightly to the edge of the stream. The water dimples and flashes in the starlight. I dig through the bag, humming under my breath, until I find that which he promised me I could borrow “whenever I liked.” To be sure; he probably did not mean in the middle of the night, but I shall not quibble over inanities.

I find soap flakes and a dish, and before long I am sending gleaming balls to the heavens, where they quiver and shimmer against the stars. O Elbereth, how long? How long shall I wander far from my fold? How long shall I be but the lone Elf in a band of mortals? How long shall this evil have hold of our earth; how long shall we be constrained to fight against it? I produce a delightful double sphere that spins and rotates upon itself, and I must refrain from laughing aloud. Like stars that orbit in tandem it seems to me, but light, insubstantial, a faery-ball. I hear the crunch of steps behind me, and a voice; it is Boromir and Gimli. The man mutters, but I can hear him.

“What is he about? He is not blowing soap bubbles again!”

The Dwarf snorts. “Again? You have caught him at this spurious activity before?”

“Aye, ere we departed Imladris. I cannot decide if he is mad or merely silly.”

I wait for the Dwarf’s snide retort, bracing myself for the eavesdropper’s malady of hearing exactly what others think of one. But there is silence a moment; then I hear him say:

“Mad, nay; silly, perhaps. But I would not cross that one for anything; he is like unto his father, but thankfully not so capricious. Let him have his fad; it is harmless, and if it amuses him what of it? I imagine a thousand years in Middle Earth might engender odd behavior in anyone.”

This surprises me; I have never heard a Dwarf speak anything but disparagement upon my kind. I let fly a stream of small bubbles, which weave and dance about the cold air; they begin to fall into the stream one by one, immolating themselves upon the water. Short-lived, tenuous, vacuous; yet beautiful and amusing, like the pretty maids who flirt with me on the docks of Esgaroth. Then Boromir speaks.

“It is all very well to excuse his actions for his immortality, but I would have expected more gravity from one who is said to be a warrior.” Then crunching footsteps recede, and I hear the Dwarf sigh.

No, I do not think Boromir and I will be friends. Twenty-three days have we traveled from Imladris, and he speaks naught to me but what is necessary. Gimli, however …

I rinse the little pipe and bowl, and stow it back in the bag. I am not sleepy, but perhaps Gimli will not mind if I walk the perimeter for him. I am so restless, and evil is so near.