(A/N: I am terribly, terribly sorry it has taken me this long to get this chapter posted! Real life, i.e. summertime syndrome, keeps getting in the way of my daily forays into Middle Earth, dernit. But fortunately, the kids go back to school in a few weeks, and I’ll have my days to myself again.

Many thanks to my marvelous and beleaguered beta, Nieriel Raina, without whom this chapter would look very strange and sub-par. Please send her your good wishes, for her Elfling has managed to injure herself, making Nieriel’s summer even more convoluted than mine!

--Le Rouret)

17. An Impromptu Council

The snake slid through the mud, dull brown, covered in slime. One could barely descry it, for it was the color of the muck, slippery and obscured. Its black eyes glittered like jet, and regarded him with a wry and cruel humor. The black forked tongue flicked out – zthh, zthh – and the stiff lips were fixed into an awful smile.

The wasp was bright yellow, with many faceted eyes; it darted to and fro, its wings a blur. The snake lifted its head out of the mud; a viscous ooze dripped off its chin. It opened its fanged jaws to devour the wasp, but the insect proved the swifter. It affixed itself to the back of the snake’s head and began to sting. The snake twisted round, looping its long, slimy coils, the mouth wide open, trying to bite the wasp, but the wasp curled its little soft body in, and stung and stung and stung. The snake stretched, writhed, bent in on itself to bite the wasp with its dripping fangs, but could not reach it. Then the snake shrank; its body became soft, the scales dissolving into pulp. It was only a caterpillar, toothless, with wriggling ineffective legs, and blank eyes. Still it twisted and struggled, but the wasp became stronger; its stinger lengthened and strengthened, pierced and poisoned.

“Go to the East,” said the nightingale irritably. It flicked its head at the wasp and the caterpillar, looking hungry. “You must follow the Master to find the Master, you idiot. Now, hurry up! It is nearly dinner-time.” Then it snapped up the wasp and the caterpillar both and swallowed them.

Legolas jerked awake, his heart skipping and thudding in his chest. His stomach and throat hurt, and it seemed horribly dark to him. But then he heard Gimli’s soothing voice, and the hard, strong hands gently stroking his hair.

“What; awake already? That was not much of a nap, my friend. Another nightmare?”

“Yes,” croaked Legolas; his throat was very dry, and his tongue tasted blood and bile. “Not bad.”

“Well, that is something, I suppose.” He pressed a flask to Legolas’ lips. “Drink this.”

Hoping it would wash away the vile taste, Legolas drank deeply. The liquor he swallowed burned all the way down, and warmed his belly; he coughed. “Ugh,” he said weakly. “That is the worst brandy I have ever drunk!”

“That’s because it is pomace,” said another voice. Legolas blinked and focused his eyes; a young Dwarf stood there, grinning down at him through his dark curly beard. “Awful stuff, I shall gladly admit, your highness, but it appears to be all we have save that stinking, mucky water.”

“Nír,” said Gimli. “One of Dwalin’s sons; fortunately he does not appear to have inherited his father’s dislike of the Firstborn. I suspect it is his natural tendency toward mischief. And that is his friend Ibun, cleaning your sword; he is not much better. The slime that the ground emits hereabouts has an acidic taint to it; it has etched a stain into the hilt, and Ibun has generously offered to buff it out; personally I deduce he is eager to examine it for himself, and has leapt at the opportunity to study such an ancient Elven blade.”

Legolas frowned; his head felt full of straw, and he could not quite remember where he was, or how he had come there. Then he remembered Renna’s face, and Kaimelas’ steady hand, and he sat up panicking and cried: “Tamin – Bandobras! Where are they?”

“We’re here; we’re here,” Bandobras’ voice said. “No need to get into such a pother, my lord. We’re both safe and sound, like you. For now, at least; I won’t promise peaceful days ahead, at least not right away.”

Legolas looked around a little confusedly, feeling lightheaded; his eyes did not seem to want to focus, and he blinked hard. At last his vision cleared, and he saw that it was night, and that they were in a small clearing in a densely wooded area; the ground was covered thick with dead leaves and old loam, and there was a small fire crackling in a pit surrounded by stones. The stars were occluded by heavy clouds, and the air was humid and oppressive. He heard the low, comfortable nicker of their horses, and realized he had been reclining against their baggage; the only other noises he could descry were the safe and homely ones of a quiet forest – a cricket trilling, leaves rustling, the creak of branches. Far up in the trees he heard a nightingale, and remembered his dream. “Is that a message to me?” he wondered. “Am I guided or warned? Do I press east now, or west to my Lord Father?” His limbs were aching and feeble, and he felt very dizzy; ever in the back of his mind he could hear the low, sinister hiss of a serpent.

Bandobras stumped over, and stood with his arms akimbo, looking down at the Green Knight with a frown. “You look awful,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Legolas weakly, rubbing his aching head. “Tamin?”

Wordlessly did his little esquire creep round the pile of baggage, his face downcast and his head hanging; Legolas saw his bruised face and tearstained cheeks and his heart turned over. Tamin made to kneel at his Master’s side, but Legolas snatched him up in relief, pressing the boy to his breast. “O my Tamin,” he said breathlessly; “you are untouched – O my Bandobras, please tell me; remains he untouched?”

“Yes,” said Bandobras with a sigh. “Found him just in time, thanks to Ibun and Nír. Mighty handy to have around, a couple spare Dwarves, you know.” He shot the trembling Tamin a frustrated look. “Take after your Master, don’t you, now, Tamin? Running off like that after a girl; for shame, you!”

Tamin fetched his breath in a sob, his small fingers clutching at his Master’s hair. Legolas could smell blood on him, and the ever pervasive stench of the mucky slime. “I am sorry, Master – “

“Hush!” whispered Legolas, holding the boy tight in his arms; Tamin’s heart swelled to hear the broken humor there. “We are fools, you and I, my Tamin; we trust too quickly, and act without thinking – I chose more a son to me when you came to me as esquire, for your father was never so precipitate! And you were beguiled away in like fashion? For shame, my dear Little One! Nay; we shall be wiser next time, shall we not?”

“Yes, Master,” sniffled Tamin, pressing his face against Legolas’ bare chest; Legolas could feel the boy’s tears, and kissed the crown of Tamin’s head. “And it was horrible, and she was so strange, and so afraid, and so dirty, and I knew I could not trust her for my heart misgave me but I followed her anyway and O it was so foolish, and now she is dead and it is even more horrible, and I wish I had never gone for maybe then she should still be alive, though she seemed so unhappy I am not sure how I feel about that, except for guilty, I feel very guilty, Master, and I promise I will never, never, ever ever run away from Bandobras ever again, I promise, Master!”

“We shall both attest to that statement,” said Ibun, approaching with Legolas’ sword, his swarthy face split by a jolly grin. He ran reverent fingers down the fuller, his eyes glittering eagerly. “A promise; did you hear that, Nír? Bandy is doomed; Tamin will follow him to the ends of the earth!”

“Fair enough,” grunted Bandobras, ruffling Tamin’s golden hair. He gave Legolas a thoughtful look. “Are you – er – hungry, my lord?”

Legolas’ stomach lurched, and he closed his eyes tight. “No, my Bandobras,” he said weakly; “the liquor perchance impedes my appetite.”

Bandobras grunted. “More likely the circs,” he said disapprovingly. “But I’ll give you that one, my lord.”

“It is just as well,” said Nír cheerfully. “All we have is cram anyway.”

“But, but Master,” stammered Tamin, nestling down further into his Master’s embrace, “I was touched – I am bruised, for they hit me; and they threw me about, and kicked me.”

“My dear Little One, it could have been much, much worse,” said Legolas with a sigh. He drew back, and put Tamin at arm’s length, looking thoughtfully into the boy’s face; Tamin was red with mortification. Legolas saw that though Tamin had been frightened and hurt, he yet maintained his innocence; some of the fear which had clutched itself tight round his heart bled away. “You are well and unbroken; I would bear near any hurt to you save that which I feared,” he said, rejoicing to see the bewilderment in his esquire’s eyes. “But, my Tamin, you must swear to me to keep a great distance between yourself and the Men of Esgaroth – swear it to me, my Tamin; I command you.”

“I swear,” said Tamin meekly, and Legolas smiled, and embraced him again; and then he said: “Well, O esquire mine, I observe I am yet unclothed, from the waist up anyway. Will you find for me a shirt or tunic to cover myself?”

“Yes, Master,” said Tamin, eager to be given a task to redeem himself; he scrambled round the back of the bags and began rummaging around. Legolas sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair; it was tangled and sticky. He noticed the two young Dwarves watching him cautiously; there was no disapprobation in their eyes though, and recalling that Bandobras had said they had aided in Tamin’s rescue, he smiled up at them.

“Well!” he said, turning to Gimli, who sat grim and silent beside him. “Will you formally introduce our friends to me, Gimli? Such brave and selfless acts deserve a touch of ceremony I deem.”

“Ceremony, from you?” grunted Gimli, giving him a guarded look. “You must be wearier than I thought!” He gestured to the two young Dwarves, and they both trotted over to them; Legolas started to struggle to his feet, but Gimli put a restraining hand on his shoulder and said: “None of that, now! Save your strength; you look like the eighth day of a week-long party. Ibun Borin’s son, there in the blue hood looking greedily at your sword; and Nír Dwalin’s son with the awful liquor. They are here with my father, looking for us; rumors of our coming reached Thorin Stonehelm, and he is anxious to foregather with us.”

“Your father is here?” asked Legolas, brightening. “Where is he? And where is Kaimelas?”

“Checking the south-eastern shoreline,” said Gimli, watching critically as Legolas shook the young Dwarves’ hands; he was concerned, for Legolas’ face was grey, and his hands trembled; Nír and Ibun however were too polite to comment, and nodded and smiled in a friendly fashion to the Elf. “They have a boat; it is safer to return to Erebor by water than by land. Hopefully Malbeach’s men have found it more fun to torment other Men than try to track us down, for we are few, and they are many.”

“We had hoped you would bring an army with you,” said Ibun, regretfully handing Irmatenagar to Legolas hilt-first; his eyes lingered lovingly on the blade. “But we will take your strong arm and your filial influence – if you can stay away from the ladies, that is!”

Legolas remembered his father’s ring then, and where he had found it, and a sick sense of foreboding filled him; Ibun seeing the shadow cross the Elf’s face said quickly: “I did not mean it, your highness; from all accounts ‘twas an awful situation; I was only fooling.”

“No, no; I deserved that, good Ibun Borinion,” said Legolas with a shaky smile. “Had I listened to the advice of my friends, I should not have placed myself in such an awkward and dangerous situation. I promise you, I am finished chasing after mortal women for now.”

“Good!” said Nír, taking a swig of the flask and grimacing. “Terribly fickle things, the daughters of Men; I cannot for the life of me see what the attraction is. Though I own I’ve seen a fair portion of pretty Elvish maids. I like the dark-haired ones.” He cocked an eye at Legolas, who was anxiously searching his trouser pockets. “Lose something, your highness?”

“I – it is not important,” said Legolas quickly, wondering where on earth the ring had gone. He remembered clutching it tight in his fists when Kaimelas had found him, but then all had gone black, and he could not recall where he had put it ere he had fallen into a swoon. He desperately hoped he had not lost it; yet to admit to its presence in the place where he had found it was unspeakable. He felt a surge of anger at his Lord Father then, for being even more foolish than the son; yet when he recalled the horrible coercion he had experienced, his heart wrung again in pity. “I must speak with him of it,” he thought, slightly panicked; “I know not which shall be more painful, his shame, or mine!” Tamin rushed toward him then with a linen shirt, and Legolas gratefully took it and said, “Thank you, my Tamin – that is capital; it is just what I wanted.” He shrugged into the shirt and said to Gimli while Tamin anxiously buttoned it up and smoothed it down, “So where are we? It is not often I awake someplace I do not remember falling asleep; at least not without the over-consumption of wine the night before.”

“We are deep in the woods east of Esgaroth,” said Gimli; “my father and these two had been waiting here for news of us. Father and Kaimelas should be here shortly; they are but looking for signs of Malbeach, as he was not in the Hall when we regained our rooms, and many of his Men are missing too. There was a great conundrum when we lost you, Legolas; a couple of Girion’s spies were found out, lurking round the walls, and a great mob of Men were dragging them round in the mud calling for death and torture; we decided upon finding you to leave Malbeach’s Halls without proper good-byes, and hope our improprieties are forgiven us under the circumstances.”

“Under the circumstances,” said Legolas, rising slowly despite Tamin and Bandobras’ protests, and resheathing his sword, “I do not own any proprieties to either Malbeach or his wife. What became of the spies?”

“Ugh,” said Bandobras, and Tamin shivered and hugged himself with his arms; Nír and Ibun looked uncomfortable, and Gimli shook his head.

“Do not ask,” said Gimli, “and you will not be further distressed. Suffice to say there is little left to return to Dale.”

Legolas shook his head angrily. “I have had enough of Lake Town,” he said; “I am prepared I own to burn it to the ground, and simply stand back and pick off the escaping Men with my bow while the city is reduced to ashes. Had Girion’s spies found aught worth knowing?”

“Who can tell?” asked Ibun. “I can reveal this to you though; Malbeach sent a messenger to Girion, telling him his spies were slain by Dwarves.” At Legolas’ raised eyebrow, he gave an evil grin, and patted his axe haft. “A shame it is Girion will see neither message nor messenger!”

“But, but,” stammered Tamin shyly, ducking his head when they looked at him. “But why is Malbeach blaming all of this on Dwarves? That is what that poor girl said to me, that Malbeach had said all of this is the fault of the Dwarves. What has Malbeach against you?”

“Well, he has to blame someone,” said Gimli, “and obviously he is not going to take responsibility for all of this himself. Why not the Dwarves? Many Men dislike us; this is nothing new.”

“Why would Men dislike you though?” asked Tamin, bewildered. “What is there to dislike? I like you quite a bit. You are funny and fierce and clever.”

“I knew I liked him,” said Nír to Ibun.

“They are only jealous of the Dwarves, my Tamin,” said Legolas, shrugging, and leant tiredly up against the bole of a tree; his legs were weak and he felt wobbly. “Dwarves are usually wealthy and successful, and live longer than do Men; their workmen are more skilled, and they drive hard deals; they are clever and persuasive in commerce, and ferocious in battle. It is simple to resent a people you cannot beat.”

“I like him, too,” said Nír to Ibun, who was looking thoughtfully at Legolas.

“With a stance like that, your highness,” said Ibun, “it is no wonder Glóin approves your friendship with his son,” he said. He bowed solemnly. “Ibun, at your service!”

“Legolas Thranduilion, at yours and your family’s!” said Legolas with a laugh, bowing back. When he straightened his head spun, and he pressed his hand against his forehead. “No more liquor for me,” he said, and cautiously lowered himself upon the baggage again, Tamin and Bandobras anxiously attending. “I have not felt this delicate since the morning after Himbaláth’s wedding.”

“Are you certain sure you don’t want nothing to eat, my lord?” asked Bandobras. “You’re looking awful peaky to me.”

“It is so,” agreed Tamin gravely; “when one does not eat, Master, one can feel very woozy and faint; Kaimelas did say to us, Master, that you had not eaten much at the feast, and subsequently were ill; your stomach is empty, Master, and I am certain you are weak for there is nothing in it. O do eat something, Master; you will feel ever so much better if you do!”

“Cram it is, then,” said Nír, digging a packet out of his wallet and handing it to Legolas, who took it resignedly. “Nír, Dwalin’s son, at your service! Though I am sure you would find my service more valuable if I were offering you sweetmeats and pastries.”

“Legolas Thranduilion at yours and your family’s!” said Legolas with a smile, taking a bite of the waybread; it was desiccated and tasteless. “Let us promise each other feasts at a later date, then.”

“I have heard good things about the wine from the slopes of Ephel Dúath,” said Nír hopefully. “I will trade you a feast for a barrel of red wine, if it please you.”

“It would please me greatly, O Nír,” said Legolas. He struggled to swallow the dry bread and said, coughing, “Is there any water, or only the liquor?”

“There is clean water, but it is hot, for we have just boiled it,” said Gimli, stumping to the fire and picking up a steaming pot. “And there would be meat to eat, if all the game had not fled looking for a good drink. I wonder what that slimy stuff is, anyway?”

“The earth, vomiting up the evil of the Master of Esgaroth,” said Legolas with a sigh, taking a cup from Gimli and sipping carefully. The water was sound, but had a bitter taste, and smelt sulphurous. “I know not; perhaps there are hot mud springs beneath the ground, surfacing after many years? Though I do not recall such terrain from centuries past.”

“Well, the water’s clean at home, at least,” said Ibun. “And Girion’s folk have said naught about foul water thereabouts. Perhaps it is isolated to Esgaroth only.”

There was the crunch of leaves, and the snap of a twig then, and Kaimelas and Glóin entered the clearing. Legolas leapt to his feet and immediately regretted it, for his head spun and he sat back down straight way. “Little Father!” he exclaimed. “How relieved I am to see you in good health! Such dreadful things have happened hereabouts that I have been very concerned for the wellbeing of all those I love.”

Glóin and Kaimelas regarded the prince; upon Kaimelas’ face was a look of deep concern, but Glóin’s eyes were twinkling merrily. “Well, you are awake!” he said. “And eating our wonderful waybread too; you must be on the mend then!” He stumped over to Legolas and let the Elf embrace him; he patted Legolas’ back roughly. “Silly young fellow,” he said gruffly, ruffling the pale hair. “Coming up here in secret, and with so few! What were you thinking?”

“Thinking?” said Legolas innocently. “I, thinking? How insufficiently you are acquainted with me, that you should suppose I make a journey of near seven hundred miles, with any forethought whatsoever!”

Nír snorted with laughter, and Ibun grinned, but Glóin shook his head. “And here we are,” he said, “eight against a thousand! What I would give to have a troop of your archers, O Lord of Dol Galenehtar, or your knights upon their fearsome destriers!”

“We ought to have come better prepared,” said Kaimelas; he looked cross. “I was against this journey to begin with; now I am convinced it was naught but madness. We ought to have told Galás, my lord; we might have convinced him – “

“He would not be swayed by a couple of letters,” said Legolas, feeling irritated. “You know this; you know how leery he is. And do not throw Meivel’s name at me either,” he added, shaking his finger at Kaimelas, who had opened his mouth to speak. “Galás and Meivel are more alike than either would own, and should have listened once to me quite politely, and then both agreed to send letters of their own ere doing a thing. Then more time would have been wasted, and who knows what we should have heard, or what else would have come to pass? Blame me if you like, my Kaimelas, but though I do not claim the highest acumen or greatest intelligence, I still feel I have done the best I could do.” He paused, considering; then said, “Well, in the greater scheme. I did rather muff the situation with Renna, have I not?”

“Well, rather,” said Bandobras. “Otter of stopped you, we otter.”

“We ought to have brought more folk anyway,” said Gimli, shaking his head. “I knew the dreams were telling Legolas of terrible things; why did we come with so few? I should have told Nórin to send me at least twenty good warriors; that would have precluded some of this nonsense.”

“And I ought to have not leapt first, and looked afterwards,” said Legolas. “If you wish to blame anyone, blame me! I do not think ahead, it is true; my Lady Mother is forever plaguing me, that Father and I did not think ahead, which is why she continually beats us at draughts.”

“We are all to blame,” said Glóin unhappily. “I told you to come, my son, and to bring your friend the Prince. I said naught about armies and arms, for when I wrote you I had no notion ‘twould degenerate so quick, and thought litigation not aggression a proper cure. But degenerate it has, my boy; the gates of Mirkwood and Erebor are closed, and Thorin and Thranduil are twin idiots.”

Legolas’ heart lurched again, thinking of his father’s ring. “Idiot indeed!” he said to himself. “My Lord Father whipped me with a cane once, and deservedly so; I understand now the anger that precipitates such behavior. My poor mother!”

“It is all very well, O Glóin Gróinion, to lay the blame at everyone’s feet,” said Kaimelas, smiling as he watched Tamin fossick about in the luggage for a brush, and fuss round his Master’s hair. “But the question remains: What do we do now? We cannot return to Lake Town, and turning tail and running back to Gondor will avail us little save putting off an evil day, and leaving our folk in danger. But there are so many directions in we might run; I am unsure whether to go west to Thranduil, or north to the Lonely Mountain, or east whence seems to come this menace.”

“East!” said Bandobras firmly. “Belias, Dúrfinwen, Belegtilion, and Melima are out there somewhere – maybe alive, maybe not. That’s the more immediate problem, I’d say, though I don’t expect you folk to agree with me.”

“Whyever not, good Hobbit?” asked Ibun. “Immediacy is not necessarily a poor motivator, and your friends are out there.”

“But it’s only four Elves, silly,” retorted Bandobras. “Compared to all your other folk in danger, north and west, do I suppose you’re a-thinking to go off east and save four Elves’ skins? I’m not, and I don’t blame you. But I’m for heading east, and letting of Thorin and Thranduil suck it up theirselves, since it seems to me they’ve gone and made this problem the worse through not standing up to this narsty Malbeach in the first place, and if you don’t like it, you can stick that in your pipes and smoke it.”

“Convoluted but prudent!” laughed Nír. “For myself I should love to go rescue two Elvish maidens, Dúrfinwen especially; a jollier girl I have yet to meet, and her qualities run to perfections alone, save the chin, which is bare.”

“You and your dark-haired Elvish maids!” said Ibun, shaking his head. “Yet we must needs attend to our own lord. King Thorin is I admit the world’s largest idiot at the moment, and I am unnerved that the Master of Esgaroth is spreading abroad this disaffection to our folk; Girion is not much better, and if he as we suspect thinks the Dwarves are behind all these troubles, we are in for a time of it, and had best get home.”

“If we could but get Thranduil and Thorin to open their gates to each other!” fumed Glóin. “Girion makes a good ally, but Thranduil would be superior in near all ways; he lives underground too, and his fortress is stronger than Dale. Legolas, what influence have you over your father?”

“It is more to ask, what influence has he not over his father?” asked Kaimelas; he sounded darkly amused, and shot his lord a wry look; Legolas made a face, though no one could tell if he were mocking his valet, or wincing because Tamin had found a particularly stubborn knot. “I tell you this, O Glóin father of Gimli Elf-Friend, had Legolas been present during your capture you should have spent your time in the palace, sleeping on feather-ticks and fed fruit sorbets and lamb-chops. The Queen too; she has the gift of keen insight and should have read Balin more clearly than her royal husband, who carries from Doriath a valid if unreasonable suspicion of your folk. Thranduil is hard, but he is not harsh, O Glóin; he is the smooth cold blade, not the jagged edge of the saw.”

“Thorin is just as bad,” said Ibun, wagging his beard. “Lock the eastern gate, Ibun! Set the archers, Nír! Gather mine advisors, Bofur! Insult the Elvish delegates, Nori! Mistrustful, suspicious fool. And after that lovely party we had at Harak-Barûn, when I thought the two kings got on so well together! I am not certain what caused the change; but where congress was before did disaffection appear, and Girion is scarce better, muttering about the evils of those who are not Men. I tell you, some poison is about, changing people’s minds; no one’s judgment is clear nowadays, as you have demonstrated, your highness.”

Legolas shifted then, his face raised and his breath quickened. The snake hissed and whispered in his head, and the edges of his vision went dark. “You have not felt it yet, Ibun, have you?” he asked; his voice, of habit so clear and light, was harsh and ragged, and Tamin drew away, alarmed. “Did you feel the press upon your mind? Did you? Did any of you?” He lurched to his feet, pressing his long fingers against his temples; Gimli rushed to support him when he swayed. His eyes were clouded and confused, and his heart fluttered against his chest like a netted songbird. “If this evil is spread abroad there is no wonder the kings hereabouts are confused, fighting back at each other, biting and snapping. It is monstrous – it is a, a weight, a slimy stone dragged up from the stinking depths of the Lake – sitting upon you, crushing you.”

“Legolas – “ said Gimli anxiously, grasping his friend’s arm; Legolas twitched him aside and said earnestly:

“If this – this burden – has cast itself upon my Lord Father, upon Thorin Stonehelm and Giron of Dale, then we are in danger no matter which direction we turn, east, south, west, or north. You, who did not have the – the snake – the – “ The memory of the serpent in his throat returned to him, and he retched, his hand pressed against his mouth, and Gimli gave him a handkerchief already stained with watery blood. “O save me,” groaned Legolas, trembling violently and sinking to his knees. “It is coursing through my veins; it sits in my stomach, the serpent, the serpent!”

“There is no snake, Legolas,” said Gimli, pleading, stroking the Elf’s hair while Tamin clutched his Master’s trembling hands. “It is the dream; it is only the dream coming back to you, for you have not slept in weeks. And that vile witch, Malbeach’s wife – “

“Lay not the blame solely upon her naked head,” said Legolas, giving a harsh laugh, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He met Gimli’s eyes, and took a deep relieved breath; the hissing voice lurking in the corner of his brain began to fade again. “’Twas Malbeach first who laid the compulsion upon me; his strength is greater than hers I deem, and his more evil also.”

“One might be weak and evil, or strong and evil,” said Gimli. “But if either be the case one is still evil. A snake I call her, and I snake I own her; and the faster we put Lake Town to our heels the better pleased I shall be for your sake, Legolas.”

Legolas leant against the baggage and regarded Gimli with a wry smile. “You wish to go to Erebor,” he said.

Gimli coughed. “Well, yes, I do, Legolas,” he admitted. “It is a strong fortress, is Thorin’s palace; the Lonely Mountain might hold against its enemies for months – “

“But what about Dúrfinwen and Belegtilion and them?” demanded Bandobras. “We’re surely not going to go and leave them out in the wilderness!”

“No, we are not,” said Legolas. He straightened and ran his fingers through his hair; Tamin had done his job well, and it felt better. “Or rather, I am not. I swore an oath to protect my mercer and her maid, and Belegtilion my scout, and I would fain tuck my tail between my legs and slink off without at least discerning their fates. I am going east, my friends; alone if need be. Kaimelas, Bandobras, Tamin, you go with the Dwarves; Erebor will be safe for you there – “

“What!” exclaimed Kaimelas, and Bandobras and Tamin made noises of protest; Gimli exchanged glances with his father, and winked. “Go alone, and in your condition? Absolutely not! My lord, you might be mad enough to make the trek to the east – “

“Now, you see here,” interrupted Bandobras angrily. “It ain’t madness to go and rescue our folk, and anyways it was my idea in the first place – “

“We know nothing of the east save it has become dangerous,” argued Kaimelas. “The men I overheard spoke of it with fear and dread, and the maid who lured Tamin away was afraid to go to the east, for there the Master was. Dúrfinwen and Belegtilion are dead, or close to it; I mourn them, and feel grief for them, but for myself, to put myself in such peril to determine how they died would be madness!”

“Very well, then!” said Legolas firmly. “You will go to Erebor, then, Kaimelas, and I shall go east.” Kaimelas goggled at him, stunned, and Nír coughed; Ibun was grinning. Gimli stood watching his friend, his arms folded, smiling grimly and knowingly. “Go, speak with Thorin. Convince him the Elves are not against him. Tell him what has happened here in Lake Town. Explain to him that the only way we might combat this evil is to join together to confront it – Thorin, Thranduil, and Girion together. Have Thorin gather his troops and meet up with my Lord Father at the joining of the Forest and Running Rivers. This way they might come upon Esgaroth from the West.”

“A fine plan,” said Kaimelas, flushing angrily. “Why might you not present this to King Thorin yourself? I am a mere valet; he will not listen to the likes of me!”

“I am the son of Thranduil,” said Legolas patiently. “I embody the Dwarvish preconception of Elven nobility – rich, powerful, silly, and arrogant. He will not trust me. You are a warrior, a blithe fellow, practical, earthy, and very persuasive. If you arrive with a party of Dwarves – in particular the inestimable Glóin son of Gróin, and his two strong and faithful companions – he will be very likely to attend to your words, and hear your most clever proposal.”

Kaimelas’ mouth worked soundlessly a moment. “O, no you don’t, Lassah,” he sputtered at last, fetching a harsh breath, his cheeks flushed and his fists clenched. “You – you will not go to the east yourself, and put yourself into danger – not without me!” He thumped his chest angrily, and then drew his breath in a sharp gasp, and turned an unhealthy shade of purple; he tried unsuccessfully to stifle his cough. There was an awkward silence in the clearing; they could all hear Kaimelas struggle for breath, his eyes dismayed, his lungs clicking and straining, his cheeks bleeding of color and his hands trembling. Legolas regarded his erstwhile scout with pity, and shook his head.

“The ill accompanying the injured – no, Kassah,” he said tenderly. “Go to Erebor, and thence to Eryn Lasgalen; rally the Dwarves and Elves, and if you can manage it, the Men of Dale. Be mine ambassador, Kaimelas; you were not meant to be a valet forever; it is not fitting an Elf of your many abilities. My dear Little Father,” he said, struggling to his feet, and kneeling before Glóin, putting his hand on the old Dwarf’s shoulder. “Please do you go with Nír and Ibun and my Kaimelas to our two foolish kings! I am going to the East; I must go to the East. I was told it in a dream.”

“A dream!” gasped Kaimelas then. He shook his head, still breathing hard, his hand on his chest which heaved and shuddered. “You ought – to have said – it was – a dream – my lord.”

“This is a strange council-chamber,” said Legolas, “and we have not been following proper protocol. I apologize, my Kaimelas. Tamin, you will go to the Lonely Mountain with Kaimelas; you will there meet the great Thorin Stonehelm – “

“No, Master!” cried Tamin in dismay, stamping his foot. “I will not go to Erebor – I will not!” Stamp, stamp! Tamin turned white with fury and his eyes blazed like flame. “I am not going to Erebor without you and I am not going to Eryn Lasgalen without you and I am going to the east with you and Bandobras to find Dúrfinwen and you cannot make me go to Erebor! I will run away from Kaimelas and let you whip me when I catch up with you but I will not let you send me away!”

Everyone turned to Tamin in amazement. “Goodness gracious me!” exclaimed Bandobras. “What’s next, a temper tantrum, Tamin? For shame, speaking to our Master like that!”

Legolas stared surprised; Tamin was angry and adamant and defiant, and stood tall, his chin lifted, his hands in fists. As a reflection undulates across clear water, Legolas saw a vision then of what Tamin would be like when he was grown: Tall, shining, golden and strong, mercurial, jolly and reckless. He gave a sudden glad laugh and clapped his hands.

“My Tamin!” he cried. “My beautiful, funny, imprudent, brave esquire! You shall be the Black Knight of Dol Galenehtar, and confound all the folk thereabouts, Men and Elves alike! And anyway you have not sworn to not run away from Kaimelas but from Bandobras; so with Bandobras and me shall you go, so that you will not confound Kaimelas further, and run away from him just so you might join me in my imprudent quest.”

“Shall I really?” asked Tamin, astonished, blinking in surprise. “I shall go with you and Bandobras? Truly, Master? Really, truly? Just us three? O that is marvelous, Master!” He laughed and clapped his hands, and gave a little hop on his feet. “We will go to the East, and rescue Dúrfinwen, and bring her to Eryn Lasgalen and – “

“Are you not forgetting someone?” asked Gimli dryly. “Do you really think I pine so for Erebor that I shall abandon you to this fruitless little quest?” He turned to his father and said solemnly, “If you can, Father, send someone – anyone – to the east to find us. I am no augur, but I think I might correctly predict we shall be in need of assistance ere long.”

“Our skiff is swift,” said Glóin with a smile, embracing his son. “As soon as I gain Thorin’s keep will I send a hundred Dwarves to see to your safety. You and your Elves,” he added, shaking his head and smiling. “Well, I suppose Kaimelas here will teach me what all the fuss is about.”

“I will do my best, O Inestimable Glóin!” said Kaimelas weakly. He took two deep breaths and added, “As soon as I can speak clearly again!”

“Be thankful for his bad lungs, Father,” said Gimli with a grin. “The first rule of Elven friendship is that they can talk the hind leg off a donkey.”

“Two hind legs,” corrected Legolas with a smile. “The donkey cannot kick that way.”

“I will start packing straight way,” said Tamin eagerly. “I do not know why you do not punish me for speaking so precipitately, Master; I do not even know what came over me, but O I am so glad you are letting me go with you, for I do not want you to go alone, and I am sorry Kaimelas that you are not going but do say hello to the Dwarves for me, and Nír and Ibun I will repay your kindnesses to me when I see you again but I am not certain when that will be – “

“Enough; enough,” said Legolas gently. “Go you with Bandobras, my Tamin, and sort out our belongings; you are forgiven, and the Dwarves will be devastated to have missed your acquaintance. Go!” Tamin scurried off, with Bandobras at his heels, and the others could hear them chattering anxiously together about fodder and faggots and tinder-boxes as they went flying round the baggage.

“Fair enough!” said Glóin to Nír and Ibun. “Let us gather whatever stuff Kaimelas needs, and get him to the boat. The sooner we get to Erebor, the sooner we can send help. Come, friend Elf; show us what is yours, and we will load it for you; for I perceive you are not so sound as an Elf should be.” And taking Kaimelas by the elbow, he led the valet away, with Nír and Ibun trotting along beside them. Legolas sighed, and leant back against the bole of a tree; the waybread did not sit well with him, and he still felt very ill and weak. Gimli sat by his side, and patted his knee with one big hand.

“Another dream!” he said, his voice heavy with apprehension. “And not of foreboding only, but one of instruction! Do you think you might trust it, Legolas?”

Legolas looked up; perched above his head was a nightingale, warbling sleepily; it cocked an eye at the Elf, and fluttered away. “Yes, Gimli,” he said unhappily. “All the dreams thus far have imparted to me true speerings and warnings, and I must heed them. I am troubled though, for in the heeding of these dreams I have not always made the best of decisions.”

“No wonder,” said Gimli, “for you are so beleaguered.” He took Legolas’ hand then, and pressed something into the palm. “Here,” he said gruffly.

Legolas looked down in amazement. It was his father’s ring, the diamond-girt moonstone glowing white, like the full moon crowned with stars; it glistened and sparkled in the dim firelight. “Gimli!” he exclaimed softly. “Where did you find this?”

“You had it clutched in your hand when Kaimelas dragged you here,” said Gimli in an undertone. “I recognized it – and when I heard whence you had come – “ he stopped, uncomfortable, and clearing his throat, he looked away.

Legolas said nothing a moment, but slipped the ring in one of his pockets and tied it closed. “Gimli,” he said, “I am ever confounded by your friendship, by your tact and constancy and wisdom. Whatever good thing I did to deserve your love, I hold thrice-blessed, for a better and more trustworthy ally I have never found, nor shall ever, though I live ten millennia and see the death of the Sun.”

“Well,” said Gimli, embarrassed but pleased, “I feel the same about you, Legolas; that is why I kept this secret. And it is pleasant I own to know that you shall ever be at my side, and die not; you are a comfort to me, my friend.”

Legolas smiled at him, but did not reply; for in the back of his mind he remembered the dream Faramir had related to him ere he left Osgiliath. “You might outlive me yet, Gimli of Aglarond,” he thought, but sat in comfortable silence with Gimli instead, holding the premonition close to his heart.