AU Fourth Age fusion of book and movie-verse. Set ninety eight years into Aragorn’s reign.

A:L:G  OC  Friendship fic. Not slash. PG for violence and some adult dilemmas in later chapters.

Angst/Adventure

Previously posted as Unbinding the Box

Adagio

Chapter seven

Adagio

Chapter seven

Cautiously the Elf and the dwarf entered the Forbidden Path under its carved lintel by the last standing stone. The torches Legolas had brought from the King's camp flickered, their yellow flames folding almost flat in the dank air flowing from under the mountain.

It was easy enough to follow the trail left by various scuffmarks in the dust, so Gliver let the Elf set the pace as he cast a professional eye over the stonework. He was impressed, this part of the path had been hewn through rocks even dwarves gave respect, granite with obsidian seams and inclusions of glinting quartz. It was no miners slot either, tall enough for a mounted rider and wide enough for four men abreast, a mighty work.

He was even more impressed as they reached the great widening, this was a truly impressive space, mostly carved by water but squared and finished by skilled hands in ancient times. Strange runes ran in friezes around the walls and he stopped for a moment raising his torch to see if he could make any sense of them. He was recalled abruptly to his task by Legolas' hail.

"Bring the torch over here Gliver, by this door."

Legolas was looking at the floor and the wall near the door. Casting back he followed a line of dark splatters to the opening then, with the extra light provided by Gliver's torch he examined a handprint on the wall.

Gliver put his own hand up in a measuring way; the print was of a size with his hand. Legolas brought his own torch even closer then turned to Gliver.

 "Look, there is a line running across the palm."

Legolas remembered the sliced gauntlet he had examined, what seemed a lifetime ago in Minas Tirith.

"This is his." He stated without doubt.

The pair of them looked into the passage ahead, Legolas stooped again and motioned Gliver's torch down. A trail of dark spots could be seen disappearing into the dark.

His face must have told of his anguish because Gliver stepped forward then and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Aule made us tough, Elf. If there is any way he could survive, he will be alive."

Legolas still looked bleak.

"And if we are too late, and he died in this pit of darkness, friendless?" He shuddered.

Gliver actually laughed. "My Lord, only to your kind is this a 'pit of darkness'. Nay, the stones sustain us, cradle us and a dwarf could find no kinder fate. Save your mourning for his bones, his surroundings would not have dismayed him."

Legolas looked at him searchingly, and then nodded at what was probably the truth.

They hurried on, and then Legolas gave a wondering cry. Gimli's axe. It was propped against the tunnel wall as if its owner had stepped away for only a moment.

The narrow tunnel allowed for no missing a body though; he was not here.

Legolas even peered into the deep niches carved into the tunnel walls. They were equally empty, of anything.

Puzzled Legolas gestured at the slots. "What do you think these were for, Gliver?"

"Bones, my Lord. I would think we are walking through an ancient tomb."

"I also," Legolas agreed, "But where are the bones now?"

Gliver snorted at his naivety.

"Cave trolls most likely, my Lord." Legolas looked at him askance.

"They cultivate some vile fungus that grows on them, it causes the bones to glow. Most old cave troll dens are quite light from it. It is thought they do it to show off the bright things they hoard. Trolls, phaugh, they are worse than magpies or dragons for collecting, nothing bright is sacred."

They moved on and found Gimli's discarded pack and helmet.

Gliver sniffed the air that flowed past them, he stayed Legolas again.

"There are definitely cave trolls near here, my Lord."

He hefted Gimli's axe and Legolas readied his bow. They crept on to the intersection with the wide cross-corridor with great caution.

Gliver's hand tightened on his arm again and Legolas heard a rhythmic grating sound approaching down the corridor on the left.

"Mostly they avoid confrontation, my Lord." Gliver whispered.

As if the invisible being had heard him they heard the thumping stop, then they heard it retreating, quickly, back the way it had come.

 00000

Granite-Glinting-Crystal was uneasy, so tuned to her mountain she could feel the turn of a season, now she knew there were intruders in the tunnels.

She touched the walls and felt their vibration in the stone.

Two; trouble for her if they wanted to bring it. She waited sniffing for their scent, and when she finally caught it in a stray eddy from down passage realisation slammed into her slow brain.

That was dwarf, and, rock of her father, Elf.

Her memory took her back through the centuries to when she had been the merest shard.

Then her people had lived in the Misty Mountains above Hollin. Dwarfs and elves had passed through the passages used by her family looking for the shining stone. She had found a dwarf, one day, pinned under a pile of slipped rock, and poked at him with her finger until he went still and cold.

Then a big crowd of elves and dwarves had bothered her folk and driven them from their old home.

Another memory teased her. Stone- Water-Worn-Smooth's pet, the smell under the sickness.

Granite-Glinting turned and started back to her cave moving as quickly as possible. The new pet was a two leg, a dwarf. And if she were not quick it would all happen again.

"Stone-Water, not kill."

She shouted in desperation as she neared the mouth of her home. She could feel the Elf coming up behind her in its tricksy silent way.

She rounded the door and the Elf slipped under her knees and scuttled to the side even as she swiped at him.

It had one of those weapons that could kill in its hands, so she tried to keep her bulk between the Elf and her son while at the same time straining to see if she had been in time to stop Stony from completing his mercy killing.

 00000

Legolas had had a sudden premonition.

With no time for explanation he thrust his torch into Gliver's startled hand and sprinted off after the retreating cave troll.

He never afterwards could tell why he was so sure; perhaps it was Gliver's tale of the collecting habits of trolls or their fondness for bones. He just knew he would find Gimli, dead or alive if he followed the troll.

If he was surprised to hear the troll speak in twisted common, he had no time to register it, given the horror of its words.

Ahead he could see the sickly glow of phosphorescence coming from an opening, so he skipped around the ponderous bulk of the huge troll and darted inside, easily avoiding the clumsy swipe that whistled over his head.

He saw a large open space, lit throughout by the green glow of the bones stacked in the corners, the walls had many ledges on which were piled helmets and bits of armour, old weapons and broken jewellery.

In the middle of the floor, near a black stream that flowed into and then out of the cave, was another smaller troll, holding a body in one hand and a rock in the other.

It was gaping at the large troll in confusion.

Legolas let fly an arrow that took the rock out of the hand of the small troll, then re-nocked so quickly it defied the eye, and let the point waver between the smaller and larger troll.

There was a pause for perhaps a breath, then Legolas could hear Gliver stumping up the tunnel behind him, and the large troll reached over the smaller troll's shoulder, picked the limp body out of her child's hand, swatted the smaller troll upside of the head with her other hand sending it sprawling across the floor, and then turned to thrust Stone-Water-Worn-Smoothly's prize at the astonished Elf.

"Take."

Glancing over his shoulder at Gliver who had finally arrived the doorway and could cover him, Legolas shouldered his bow and reached out, and then into his arms was poured the naked, barely living body of his friend, Gimli.

 Legolas could hold him easily. He weighted less than a hobbit, was burning with fever and was quite unconscious.

But still he lived.

The giant troll squatted sniffing.

"It lives." She fixed the Elf with her huge eyes. 'No trouble want we."

She stood again and kicked at her son who was just trying to climb to his feet.

"He stupid. He young. He never again forgets, No, two, leg, pets." She punctuated each word with a blow.

The smaller troll cowered.

Legolas winced.

Gliver looked a question at the Elf who shifted his friend slightly so Gimli's head rested against his shoulder.

"No trouble, mountain mother." He said finally, wanting to get out of there before Gimli died in his arms.

Granite-Glinting-Crystal held his gaze for a moment then turned back to her son, dismissing him.

Legolas walked carefully out of the cave, and then the two companions fled down the dark halls until they emerged into the light rain falling on the Firienfield grasses.

 00000

Legolas stood for a space with his face turned up to the clean drizzle, silently giving thanks to Manwe for this chance to make a new start.

The misting rain made a net of silver in Gimli's matted hair and the Elf squeezed him slightly tighter, as if to impart some of his own health and life.

Meanwhile, Gliver shed both his and Gimli's packs and then rummaged around in the depths of his own. Quickly he produced a woollen cloak and approached the Elf with it open in his arms.

Legolas sighed and helped Gliver to wrap his friend in the warm material. Then he sat on the damp ground and balanced Gimli across his lap.

Gliver finger-combed a strand of hair off Gimli's slack face leaving a pale streak in the grime that marred his features.

"What shall we do, Legolas?" Gliver squatted down beside the Elf and watched his friend breathing for a space.

Legolas hunched over Gimli a little more to shelter him from the rain and was silent for a moment, and then he looked at the concerned dwarf.

"We need to get him to the King." He stated.

 "I have not the skills to help him heal."

His expression went a little vacant as he focussed inwardly, then his gaze sharpened again and he looked at Gliver.

"His flame of life is so weak, and feel, he is burning what reserves he has left."

Gliver rested a gnarled hand on his Lord's chest and felt the fever that was consuming him.

"Can your horse manage the return trip?"

Legolas looked worried. "I could ask her."

Once again the Elf tightened his grip on his friend, pressing Gimli's head against his heart in a tender gesture

Gliver found most moving. Indeed when the Elf met the dwarf's eye again tears threatened for both of them.

"Would you hold him?" Asked Legolas with a degree of reluctance.

He had the absurd feeling that should he lose physical contact with his friend, Gimli would leave him forever.

In answer Gliver sat himself with his back against a handy standing stone and held out his arms.

Legolas moved Gimli as if he were made of delicate pottery instead of the sort of iron he had proved from his endurance. Then, after a long look, he trotted off up the path to seek out Ascallon.

Gliver followed him with his eyes until he was lost to his sight, then turned and spoke conversationally to his limp charge.

"I hope you know how well you are loved, my old friend."

 He patted Gimli on the back gently, as if he were comforting his baby son.

"You have been most sorely missed."

 00000

Legolas gave a shout of joy when he finally found Ascallon near the cliff path. With her was one of the powerful and intelligent stallions of Rohan; surely a Mearas of the old blood so close was his resemblance to Gandalf's Shadowfax.

Legolas bowed most sincerely to the horse. The stallion nodded its head to him. Trying to mask his anxiety Legolas related the events of the last day and then made his request.

The stallion snorted and trotted in a small arc, head and tail arched, as if to ask who was this that asked such a favour.

Ascallon snorted in a derogatory manner and nipped at him as he pranced past.

The stallion's head came down, and if a horse could look sheepish he managed it.

Legolas asked again and Ascallon whinnied at the great animal, and finally he chose to approach the Elf and sniff at his clothes and weapons. He had a little lip at a strand of the Elf's hair, then stood like a palfrey and allowed the Elf to mount.

So Gliver saw him, approaching like a legend on the back of a horse so tall the dwarf wondered how he was going to get his patient up there. But the horse was gracious in his submission and bent a leg at the Elf's urging, so Legolas could reach for Gimli and install him on the broad back in front of him.

"Shall I send your people to you?" Asked Legolas of Gliver, who was handing up Gimli's pack and weapons for the Elf to stow about his person.

"Nay," scoffed the dwarf. "I am no maiden needing protection, and am but a few days from our home."

He placed a warm hand on the Elf's leg. "Go swiftly, my Lord. And send us news as soon as you may."

Legolas bowed his head and graced the dwarf with one of his rare smiles.

" Thank you, Gliver, heir of Gimli. As ever my friend chose well when he chose you to succeed him." Gliver blushed and stepped back grumpily.

"Begone, Sir Elf, lest I inherit far too soon."

Then Legolas wheeled the animal round, and in a heartbeat they were lost in the mist of rain that greyed the end of the day.

 00000

By nightfall they were rounding the knees of Starkhorn and could see the lights of Edoras twinkling on its hill like a promise of ease. The rain had stopped but looking ahead, across the Eastfold, Legolas could see a spring storm flashing and crashing its way down the valley of East Emnet. The thunder was growling round the sky, alternately loud then distant but there was no doubt the weather would intersect their path before long. And the distant booming must have reached something in Gimli because he started to stir, straining fitfully against Legolas' hold.

"Cloudfoot, we must find shelter and I think it had best be the city. Wilst thou carry us even there?"

Cloudfoot stood four square on the small hillock they had paused on, pawed the earth and trumpeted his wild neigh to the empty plains. Then shook his head and turned for the gilded hall of Meduseld.

Swift was his stride but the storm was swifter, by the time Legolas was in front of the city gates the rain was torrential and the thunder so loud that the very air seemed to shake. Gimli was now fighting him with dumb obstinacy and Legolas was never so grateful as when the gate guard spotted them and challenged their passage.

"Lord Legolas of Ithilien, with a companion sore wounded. Will you allow us entry and shelter from this storm?"

The guard could not take his eyes off the Elf's horse.

"My Lord, where such as he comes who am I to say nay. Shall I provide an escort to our healing house?"

"Aye, and housing for my Lord horse here if it please you."

Legolas managed to slide off Cloudfoot's back with Gimli still in his arms. He went to the stallion's head.

"In the morning we will continue, if it please you to partake of the city's hospitality and wait." The horse snorted at him but was nothing loathe to spend a night in the warm with oats on hand.

Gimli groaned weakly then, and his eyelids fluttered as if he were trying to wake.

 "Come my Lord." Said a second guard, who had the look of one who had been dozing a few minutes before.

Legolas followed him through the storm to the nearby healing house, and stepped inside, still holding his friend, then waited as the guard roused the duty healer. He was aware of dripping almost shamefully on the clean stone floor, of the calm and peace of the hall, all being disturbed now as a dumpy woman hurried up with the soldier at her shoulder. She held up a lamp and looked in a professional way at Gimli's face then glanced up at the weary, soaked, Elf that held him.

"Come, my Lords. Let us start setting things to rights."

She trotted off and Legolas followed, never more grateful in his life for the limitless compassion of humans.

 00000

A mighty crash of thunder followed by a long stuttering flash and another crash that rattled the glass on his beside tray, sat Aragorn bolt upright with his heart racing, reaching for his sword.

Lightening flashed again, silhouetting every object in his tent, and, as the thunder boomed, Aragorn lay back down again and rubbed a tired hand over his face.

He had been deeply asleep following his day working with the Woses tribal people and their children.

 Each individual had needed his healing touch to redirect the wrongness that had settled in lungs and sometimes other organs.

He had finally been chased off to bed by Sarthor, the healer who had come from Minas Tirith with his team of helpers following Aragorn's urgent request the previous day. He had arrived in the late afternoon, disgustingly full of energy and he had all the usual healer's scorn for rank.

Mostly Aragorn found that attitude refreshing, but now as he lay looking into the night, worrying about Luin and her baby, Sarthor's edict that the King was not to show his face in the healer's tent until first light simply felt presumptuous.

Rain fell like a drum-roll onto the canvas above his head and Aragorn could hear the camp rousing to check picket lines and sagging awnings.

His own personal steward slipped into his tent with a shuttered lamp and a quiet "My Lord," and checked quickly for leaks.

Then he left and Aragorn was alone contemplating his strobing ceiling.

"Valar help my friends if they are out in this." He thought to himself.

Then the incessant rain lulled him, despite himself, back to sleep.

00000 

Legolas was an old campaigner, and like most warriors had the capacity to fall asleep whenever time and circumstance allowed him the ease to do so, and there was no doubt he was weary.

Even an Elf felt the strain of a night spent riding, followed by the excitements of the day and his ride to Edoras.

He still felt the weight on his spirit of the grief that had gaped like an abyss when Aragorn had announced Gimli dead, and he was afraid to hope too greatly that those dire tidings may not yet prove to be predictive rather than wrong.

Legolas was warm and dry, except for his hair, which still clung damply to his neck, clean, and dressed in spare clothes from his pack, and was installed in a large chair beside Gimli's bed.

His friend had also been washed thoroughly and the wounds in his shoulder and chest expertly cleaned and bound.

He lay, looking like a child, in the middle of the mattress drugged into sleep again because of his agitation had increased with the necessary medical procedures without bringing with it any sign of lucidity.

The healer had offered the Elf a bed of his own but not argued when Legolas had insisted on staying with his friend. Instead she had handed him a pillow and a blanket and left the room with the promise of returning at regular intervals throughout the night.

"Try to sleep. If you are determined to take him onwards tomorrow he will need your full attention."

Legolas could not find the peace he sought.

Instead he watched the rise and fall of Gimli's chest as it stirred his combed out beard and thought about why this being was so dear to him. He even missed his usual snoring.

Finally he scooted his chair forward, so he could reach Gimli's hand where it rested on the coverlet, clasped it in his own long fingered one, and then rested his head on the bed beside his friend.

"Please stay with me Elf-friend, you are the rock that binds me to this place. Without you I must away, and that is not the desire of my heart."

He fancied Gimli's fingers twitched in his, but nothing more did he feel although he lay as still as only an Elf could.

Later the healer came to check her patient and smiled to see the lanky Elf so folded and fast asleep.

After checking Gimli's breathing and temperature she gently draped the spare blanket over the Elf's back.

Stiff he would be in the morning she saw no reason he should be cold as well.

TBC

Reviews treasured and hoarded, my precious.

Rose