Chapter Twenty ; Memories (Part 1)

“Master Elf ?”

GimliÂ’s deep gruff voice tried in vain once more to free his friend from whatever invisible force had suddenly frozen the elf to the spot.
Un be-known to the dwarf, his request had brutally thrown his friendÂ’s mind back to a time long ago. An unpleasant memory from a distant childhood had momentarily reacquainted its grip on the PrinceÂ’s consciousness.
And as the dwarf looked on in growing concern, Legolas stared unblinking and unseeing at his stalwart companion. His mind no longer surrounded by the familiar comforts of his mallorn tree, disorientated now, it found itself in a dark place, a cold and wet place and he imagined he felt the ghost of a painful injury long since healed.

“Legolas ! Answer me elf !” the dwarf tried once more with increased urgency as he gripped one of his friend’s slender arms and shook it roughly.

The elf finally blinked and clarity returned swiftly to his recently haunted eyes.
Gimli watched intently as the elf swallowed hard and licked his suddenly parched lips as he faught to hide his embarrassment and regain his calm composure. When the internal battle was won the archer appeared his normal self once more and he spared a weak smile for his friend.

But Gimli saw through it and recognised the smile for what it wasÂ…Â…..a feeble attempt at convincing him all was well.

“And what, may I ask, was that all about ?” he demanded out of equal measures of concern and curiosity.

“Nothing Master Dwarf………your request was merely …………..unexpected,” the elf replied as steadily as he could.

“Really,” the dwarf stated somewhat sceptically while nodding his head.

“Yes,” Legolas replied as convincingly as possible, yet refused to look at his friend.

“Unexpected ?” Gimli probed once more, with arched eyebrows, sure now that the elf was hiding something.

“Yes,” the elf answered with renewed force, “there is nothing wrong.”

“Nothing…..hmmmm……….it seems strange to me Master Elf how easily you are affected by……nothing….tis trully a cumbersome affliction…….I almost feel sorry for you and your kind,” Gimli skilfully baited his friend by wounding his pride.
The elf suddenly turned to glare at the dwarf, his fair face flushed with the heat of annoyance.

“I am suffering from no affliction !, be wary of what you say Master Dwarf,” the elf warned in a hushed voice, “I would hate for you to loose you balance during the climb down.”

“Legolas Thranduilion !” Gimli admonished, “I have never known you to threaten me in such a manner before, save that one time in Gondor………you were hiding something then and you are hiding something now……..spit it out or I shall go to Gwaithwen this minute and question her myself ‘til the truth comes out !”

If threats were to be the order of the day, well two can play at that game, Gimli thought.

The silent staring continued until Legolas felt his ire slowly begin to dissipate as reason gradually returned.
The ghost of a smile graced his face once more as his mind drifted back to the recent event Gimli had just refered to. He looked upon it now with fondness, at the time he had cursed his friendÂ’s pig-headed tenacity, a plague on the stiff necks of dwarves indeed.

Legolas had been injured during the Battle of Pelennor Fields. A terrified horse, freed of its rider, had lashed out with a powerful kick from its hind quarters, catching the distracted elf in the side. In the blink of an eye Legolas had found himself lying in the dirt several yards away from where he had just previously stood. The impact had badly cracked two of his ribs and stole his breath away. He had barely time to recover before the orcs he had been battling rained down upon him once more.

The first he dispatched by throwing one of his beloved knives, it caught the foul creature in the throat. Its dying, choking blood-filled gurgles were quickly drowned out by a second enraged orc. It charged towards him, shrieking, scimitar raised intent on murder.

Legolas was about to throw his second knife to slay the orc, but he hesitated for a heartbeat. He did not wish to be left weapon less. He glanced to either side of him and spotted a disguarded Rohan warrior’s spear. He reached out, ignoring the burning pain in his side and grabbed the weapon. As the orc closed in, the elf raised the spear. The creatureÂ’s momentum was its own undoing, it couldnÂ’t stop in time and was impaled on the lethal metal tip. As it slowly slid down the wooden shaft the light left its gruesome eyes forever.
Legolas released his grip on the weapon and watched as the orc fell heavily to the ground.
The elf held his throbbing side and tried to ignore the shooting pains as he struggled to stand. Before he was fully on his feet more orcs rushed him, seeking to take advantage of his apparent weakness. He fought both beasts valiantly with his one remaining knife whilest managing to protect his left side.

As soon as he saw an opening, he took it. He lashed out in a wide slashing arc severing the throat of his nearest opponent. The air around him was suddenly filled with countless droplets of foul black blood, covering his skin and staining his clothes.
He grimaced at the dying creature then turned sharply to face his other attacker, its own sword raised and poised to land a killing blow.
But a sudden look of surprise came over the orcÂ’s hideous face, quickly followed by pain and then nothing. The filth collapsed face front before the elf, a familiar throwing axe deeply embedded between its shoulder blades.

Legolas looked up to see Gimli approaching. The dwarf stood over the body of his latest victim and then none too gently reefed his axe free from the orcÂ’s back.

“I grow tired of saving your scrawny hide Master Elf !” he laughingly declared, trying his best to rile his elven friend.

Legolas appeared unimpressed.

“You have far to go Master Dwarf before you could ever hope to even the score, for it would be easier to count the stars in the sky than the number of times I have saved your stunted hide !” the elf retaliated.

Gimli merely continued to laugh heartily, his faced flushed with adrenaline and the excitement of battle.

Without waiting for further reply, Legolas moved to retrieve his other knife. He had to bend down to remove the blade from the orcÂ’s throat and the move cost him.

The hiss of pain and grunt of discomfort could not be hidden from even the ears of a dwarf and GimliÂ’s eyes turned at once to his friend and began their intense scrutiny.

Legolas wiped his knife clean in the orcÂ’s ragged clothing, then stood up once more, his movements subtly stiffer than normal.

“You are injured !” Gimli accused, as a deep frown furrowed its way across his brow.

“Tis nothing,” the elf assured, eager to dismiss the whole notion, “look Gimli, the battle is won.”

Legolas pointed to the battered and burning city of Minas Tirith.

Momentarily distracted, the dwarf turned to see what his friend had witnessed.

The Dead Men of Dunharrow had entered the city. Their eerie glow now covered most of the lower levels and was steadily climbing upwards as the ghostly soldiers cleaved a path through the entire city, dispatching SauronÂ’s minions in their wake.

Soon after, Aragorn fulfilled his promise and released the Army of The Dead, despite the dwarfÂ’s suggestions. Their debt had been repaid and they had been redeemed by their own actions and so the living looked on as the dead faded into mist, only to be sweep away by a gentle breeze.

It was shortly after, that Gimli had renewed his pestering of his injured friend. When the elf could finally take it no more, he had quite seriously threatened to hog-tie the dwarf to a horse, lead it all the way to Fangorn Forest and abandon him there to the mercy of the trees and Ents.

Gimli in turn threatened to tell Aragorn of his suspicions. He knew the Ranger would insist that Legolas went to the Houses of Healing and he would most likely be resolute in his opinion that the elf take no further part in the war against Sauron, should the injury prove serious.

Knowing this to be true also, Legolas finally relented and admitted his injury. Wounded or not, he would never willingly abandon Aragorn and his friends, not now, not when there was the slightest chance of victory.

And so he told Gimli what ailed him and what he would need to treat it ; some clean bandages to strap his chest and some herbs for the pain and swelling and salve for the bruises, all of which the dwarf skilfully managed to remove from the Houses of Healing without detection.
After all the healers and their assistants were far too busy attending to the countless wounded in the aftermath of the battle, to notice the goings on of one dwarf.
Thus the elf managed to tend to his injury, while pointedly refusing any assistance from his interfering friend and kept it hidden from Aragorn until it was too late for the soon to be King to do anything about it.

Gimli had been true to his word and had uttered naught about the incident, but Legolas caught the several concerned glances and noted how carefully the dwarf gripped him when sat behind him on Arod.

Despite his rough exterior and gruff manner, the dwarf had a gentle heart and thus it was difficult for the elf to remain angry with his friend for long, though in truth he was not trully angry at his friend but at himself.

He berated himself for not anticipating his companion’s request. Gimli was a dwarf, a child of Aulë, it was only natural for him to have an interest in the palace’s underground caverns and tunnels and more obviously it was only natural that he be curious about where his father, Glóin, had been kept during his time here.

But even more the elf was deeply ashamed and embarrassed at how the dwarfÂ’s innocent remark had affected him. He had not expected those long forgotten feelings to resurface after all this time, not after all he had been through.
He was no elfling, he was an experienced warrior, tested in battle countless times. He had faced huge poisonous spiders, fierce wargs, brutal trolls and the endless foul hordes of Mordor. Yet here and now he had been frozen in fear by a mere memory and it was perhaps this reaction that was even more ‘unexpected’ than his friend’s request.

The elf released as resigned sigh and sat down near the edge of the talan, allowing his long legs to dangle freely. He invited the dwarf to sit by him. Curious, Gimli obliged without comment and waited patiently for the elf to speak.

Eventually.

“It happened a long time ago friend Gimli, I was a mere elfling, barely a few hundred Summers old. It was during the preparations for the Ethuil festival,” the elf paused and smiled as the fondly remembered the events leading up to the unfortunate incident, “Galadon and I were in the kitchens, insistant on aiding Gwaithwen in her preparations for the feast. In truth we were more of a hindrance. We actually ate more almond cakes than we helped to make,” he chuckled.

“Well they are deliciously tempting,” Gimli agreed, “you can hardly be blamed for that !”

“One would think so my friend, however Gwaithwen was of a different opinion and she sought to be rid of us,” Legolas explained.

“Really ? Did this in any way involve an ancestor of that large wooden spoon of hers ?” Gimli asked, eyes glinting.

“Thankfully, no.”

“Oh,” Gimli replied, rather disappointed.

“Do not be so eager to take pleasure in the misfortunes of others my friend, wait first until you yourself have felt the biting sting of that spoon and then perhaps you shall be more inclined towards compassion,” the elf cautioned lightly.

The dwarf chuckled deeply in reply, he had become very fond of Gwaithwen and her ways from the moment he had met her.

“Pray continue Master Elf,” Gimli encouraged.

“To be free of us, she devised a very important mission for two aspiring warriors…….a treasure hunt.”

Gimli nodded in appreciation of her cunning plan.

“She removed some parchment from her favourite recipe book and compiled a list of special items which we were duty bound to retrieve.”

The dwarf laughed loudly.

“The Lady Gwaithwen is a very clever elf ! So tell me friend, what did this list consist of ?” he asked.

LegolasÂ’ eyes scanned the distant horizon as his mind recollected the ancient list.

“An eagle’s feather, a piece of deer antler, Luinsil’s favourite quill……………..an arrow from Sindadur’s quiver, a book from my father’s study, I cannot remember which, a seamstress’ needle………..a chisel and a dragon’s egg.”

“A dragon’s egg !”

“Indeed, the Lady Gwaithwen is also very creative when needs be, she chose an item which we would never be able to find, but she knew of our stubbornness and guessed correctly that we would do our utmost best to retireve one and so we would be occupied for hours, until hunger or boredom finally came over us,” the elf explained.

“So what happened ?” Gimli asked eagerly, now trully caught up in the tale.

“We obtained most of the items with little hinderance. The retrieval of Luinsil’s quill merely required a slight distraction…………I simply told him that my father wished him to personally summon Sindadur to a private council. He left in a great hurry assuming the matter to be urgent, thus leaving Galadon free to take his abandoned quill from his writing desk. We waited near by for Luinsil to return with my former tutor. Sindadur disarmed himself in the entrance hall, as is our way and it was then that we relieved his quiver of a single, expertly made arrow,” Legolas recounted his wayward deeds with fondness.

“Master Elf I would have not thought you capable of such deception !” Gimli declared in mock disgust.

“Deception ?” the elf queried with feigned innocence.

“Master Elf you lied to your father’s advisor,” the dwarf was quick to point out.

“Merely an error, Master Dwarf,” Legolas clarified, smiling.

“Error my eye ! And prey tell what did your father make of this ‘error’ ?” Gimli demanded.

“When the time came to eventually discuss it, he seemed strangly unsympathetic. Galadon and I were lectured to for many hours on ‘the importance of not wasting people’s time’, which is a little ironic as I seem to remember feeling that lectures themselves were a cruel waste of an elfling’s time,” the elf laughingly admitted.

“I sense that perhaps lectures were a regular feature of your upbringing,” the dwarf announced.

“I have had my fair share Master Dwarf and I fear I have yet to endure my last,” Legolas lightly declared and Gimli laughed deeply along with him in complete understanding.

His own father, Glóin was notorious for his long lectures to young dwarves on the importance of safety in the mines. Diamonds have formed in half the time.

“And Sindadur ?”

“Ah my tutor,” the elf sighed, “he took full advantage of our misfortune to show us the true ‘error’ of our ways. Galadon and I received numerous lectures from him about never interfering with a warrior’s weapons, the importance of knowing the exact count of arrows in your quiver, the folly of needlessly separating a Captain from his patrol…………..we did not make the same mistake twice my friend, nor did we soon forget the six months spent cleaning out Mirkwood’s stables,” the elf solemnly admitted.

“So what of the egg?” Gimli asked, keen once more to hear the rest of the story and eager to know why such a memory could trigger such a strange response in his normally unshakeable friend.

Sadly the bright smile quickly faded from the elfÂ’s fair face as he called to mind the less fortunate part of his childhood treasure hunt.

He proceeded to tell Gimli how Galadon had come up with the idea of searching for the egg deep within the bowels of the mountain containing the palace. Legolas was not overly keen on the idea. He detested the labyrinth of caves and tunnels under his fatherÂ’s more open and airy halls. In his opinion they were poorly lit, badly ventilated, damp, slippery, miserable places to be avoided at all costs but he bowed to his friendÂ’s logic. If a dragon were to lay an egg, would it not be in a secret protected place, hidden from prying eyes.
And so the two young elflings headed deep into the mountain, endeavouring to complete the final task on their quest.

The tunnels were surprisingly empty, most of the elves had already brought up the necessary supplies needed for the feast from the storerooms. Many others had been given permission by their King to abandon their duties early inorder to prepare themselves. Feasts were taken quite seriously in Mirkwood. The need to celebrate the good things in life was of even greater importance now during this time of shadow and uncertainty.

And so it was that the two little warriors managed to slip by, unnoticed by the few remaining elves. As the youths stole silently past them, the adult elves began to sing merrily, they had begun to send the last few remaining empty barrels through the trap doors in the floor, sending them on their way back to Lake-town down the Forest River.

As Legolas and Galadon travelled further and further away, their sweet voices became fainter and fainter until they could be no longer heard echoing off the solid stone walls.

The young Prince was becoming increasingly anxious, his torch began to splutter and flicker in the occasional blast of cool air. The stone floor was becoming increasingly uneven and wet. The Spring thaw was upon them and the heavy winter snows were rapidly melting, increasing the levels of natural spring water within the mountain. The only other sign of life was the odd spider and a small amount of litchen growing in the dampness of the walls. The tunnels at this level were unused and they became progressively smaller and narrower.

Legolas was definitely having second thoughts. He was about to suggest they turn back or maybe try a different route, when Galadon called out to him from his forward scouting position, he had spotted what looked like a larger cavern through a narrow crawl space.

When Legolas reached his friendÂ’s side, they tried to use the combined light of their torches to illuminate what lay beyond the narrow tunnel but it was no use, the faint light was greedily swallowed up by the oppressive darkness.

There was nothing else for it, they would have to venture inside into the unknown. Slightly unsure of their path, the two young elves gripped each otherÂ’s hands tightly and headed into the crawl space.

What they did not realise was that ahead of them lay a very sharp decline into a deep yet narrow natural well, steadily filling with ice cold water. Before they realised their error both elves began to slip on the slime covering the perpetually wet rocks, they could find no purchase and they began to slide further down the decline.
The steeper the slope became, the more momentum they gathered until they had no control over their actions. Panic set in and they began to yell loudly in fear.

Their cries of distress echoed off the walls and followed the helpless elves as they both fell together down the narrow abyss.

OooooOooooO

Author’s note: Well, what do ya’think of that !!?? Mubuhahaha !!
Thanks a million to those who have reviewed, hope you got my Private Messages.