The next dawn was hidden behind a blanket of clouds as grey as steel.  The rain had passed, leaving the world wet and cold in the early stillness before waking life returned to the world.  And it felt absolutely wonderful after spending the night in the Mountain.

Legolas wanted to leave early that he might go without all the fanfare he knew Thorin would have wished to send with him.  A quiet morning ride would be infinitely more pleasant than the harsh blaring of trumpets.  He was clad again in the same bold but capable vesture the Mountain had seen him wear to its gates the day of his arrival, though now with a longer cloak to guard against the chill and the weather.  His horse plodded along faithfully behind him as he walked to the open road accompanied by only Gimli and his mother.  

Scatha was perched nimbly on his shoulder, clad in coat and collar of gem-encrusted gold, eagerly tasting again the welcome scent of the larger world.  Thorin’s choice of gift pleased Legolas well enough, though he wondered how his father would receive it.  He could not help now but smile at the undying but endearing stinginess of the Dwarvish race, for it was plain that Scatha had been nothing but trouble to him, yet Thorin had been unwilling to humble his pride so much as to set his prize free.  Now that the Elf-prince had taken a fancy to the little pest, he was provided a fine excuse to seem extravagant even as he freed himself of an unwanted burden.  The rich wardrobe made up for what was lacking in value, though it would be the last time Scatha ever wore it.  But that was not to dismiss the willingness of Dáin’s son to atone for the transgressions of his people, and he would have sent a pony laden with apologetic tribute if Legolas had not declined with thanks.  He knew Thranduil would squirm when he heard, but this was how he conducted his own affairs.

“I would that you did not have to leave this way,” Gimli said at last as they walked together.

“Don’t let it worry you, my lord,” Káli insisted.  “We have had few Elves inside the Mountain before, and not one of them has ever looked back when once they regained their horse.  But you seem to have nerve enough, and for you there will be another day.”

“I certainly hope so, my lady,” Legolas said.  “I harbor hope for your husband yet, but I will not ask more of him now.”

“You are too gracious, Legolas,” she said again, a grumble in her voice for Glóin.  “He could be a worthy friend if only you had been introduced under more favorable circumstances.  Perhaps if you do not show yourself for a good year or two, he will be more disposed to remember his manners.”

“I will be waiting,” Legolas promised as they stopped where the pavement of the white path melded into that of the Dale road.  Here he would be mounted and go on alone.  “It could be that we meet often in Gondor if you return to Minas Tirith with your son.”

“I will come,” she professed with a smart nod, as though no force on earth would stop her.  “I would also see these caverns of Rohan Gimli speaks so well of.”

“They will be worth your while, my lady,” Legolas assured her with a knowing smile.  “By Éomer’s grace, Gimli will be renowned among the Dwarf-lords of days to come.  A strong queen would complement his halls well.” 

They stood for a moment without words, knowing the understanding that they shared.  Despite all that had befallen him here in the past days, Legolas knew he would not have foregone the visit even had he known the trials beforehand.  Indeed it had not been fruitless, for he had managed to get a foot in the door at least; Káli’s regard was reward enough to his mind, even if Glóin remained unconvinced.   He could see she was none too happy to see him go so soon, and even looked forward to meeting him again, which was more than he might have hoped for.  Strangely enough, he found it was a sentiment shared.

“Farewell, then, Legolas,” she said bluntly, as though goodbyes were not her specialty.  “If we do not see you in Minas Tirith, we may come to find you in Ithilien.”  Words failed her, and she seemed unable to adequately speak her mind though Legolas waited patiently.  Shifting uncomfortably where she stood, she glanced furtively from side to side, but there was no one but Gimli near.  “Now bend down,” she demanded at last, as though it were a matter of course, her privilege to command the friend of her son who just so happened to be the Prince of the Wood.

Unheard of though it was, Legolas found the insecurity of the audacious request so endearing that he would not have refused.  He obligingly leaned over to allow her the indulgence, and Káli stood on her toes to lay a mother’s kiss on his cheek, perhaps a moment unprecedented in the whole of history.  Legolas was certain he would never understand her, but it was heartening then to see much of the clouded suspicion gone from her eyes, a welcome change from how he had first seen them.

Glancing aside, he saw Gimli looking on as though either scandalized by his mother’s temerity or astounded by his friend’s forbearance – perhaps both.  But he had seen only the half of it.  Scraping together all the hard-bitten courage his father had ever taught him, Legolas closed his eyes and returned the gesture.

“And farewell to you as well, Gimli,” he said, standing again and thus obliging Scatha to reposition himself a second time.  “It has been a long road together, mellon, but here our ways must part for a time.”

“Not for long,” Gimli assured him.  In a week or two Frár and I will be making a terrific din in your cellar.  If you find a moment, come down now and again.”

Legolas laughed.  “I know how Dwarves work, my friend,” he smiled.  “You will want me to sit by and be silent lest I get in your way.  I can think of more constructive ways to spend my time, but even so I imagine you will be seeing more of me than you could wish.”

“No doubt,” Gimli chuckled, throwing him a jaunty wave.  “Go on, Legolas.  Go pick up your guard and get back to your wood before you get yourself into any more trouble!”

He rode as far as the rise of the bluff before he drew up to turn back one last time, boldly declaring to those who could see that Erebor had not yet bested him.  Scatha chirred inquiringly, nestled snugly into the ermine-ruffed hood on his back; that one was eager to be gone, it seemed.  Gimli and Káli were still watching, two stout figures against the silent majesty of the Mountain behind them.  They waved again in the first thin flurries of snow to come from the clouds above.  Legolas raised a hand in final valediction before spinning the horse around to resume their gallop along the side of the open road, leaving Erebor behind.

Realms and lords would languish and pass away, new generations would take the place of the old, but it would have to be long years uncounted before his memory of this singular journey would even begin to fade.  He had been blessed with many friends in his life, but Gimli was something new.  He had thus far only known one Age of the world; the next seemed to show a new light, the last great Age when all free kindreds would live openly together before all was changed again.  The next hundred years would be full ones.

But despite his new and broadened sentiments, he was grateful for yet another reason that he had not brought his guard.  All the Powers forbid his friends should ever hear he had kissed a Dwarf.

 

~: The End :~