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Common Ground  by jenolas

On their arrival at Ithilien, the Wood Elves discovered a large circular shaped clearing, covered with soft grass throughout which flowers of many varieties and hues were sprinkled. The trees that formed the border were tall and ancient and their upper branches intertwined to provide a shady canopy that was thin enough in the centre to allow an unobstructed view of the patterns of the stars once the sun had set. The Elves of Eryn Lasgalen who had chosen to follow Legolas had spent their very first night there and it had since become their favourite place for merrymaking. The shimmer in the air as the warmth of the afternoon sun heated it reminded Gimli that it was but two days until the festivities. The Midsummer feast was to be the first formal occasion to be held in the clearing and because he wanted everything to be perfect for his friend he had come to make a final inspection of the work.

Rather than build a hall in which to hold formal feasts, the Elves had decided that the freedom of the natural setting under their beloved trees was much more desirable. Legolas had conceded Gimli’s point that whilst they were more than happy to sit on the grass while they feasted, it would be appropriate if there were at least some tables and benches for the guests who were expected from Minas Tirith, some of whom may no longer be accustomed to such a casual arrangement. So it was that the Dwarves of Aglarond gifted the Elves of Ithilien several stone tables and benches to place in their outdoor Hall.

The main table was shaped like a large leaf and the others were carved in the shape of large round flowers and were spread out under the trees in a circular formation making the arrangement look like a giant’s garden. The tables were all of a height low enough to be reached by those sitting on the ground, or in fact to also be used as benches if desired. The intricate leaf and flower pattern that was carved into the top of each one was a testament to the craftsmanship of the makers.

It had taken many days of combined effort by Elves and Dwarves to make the clearing into an outdoor Feast Hall, and as well as the tables under the trees, there were now garlands of brightly coloured flowering vines growing around their trunks. A large fireplace had been built in the centre of the clearing and the Elves had made certain that there was still plenty of room left for dancing under the stars.

As he walked through the forest on his way to the clearing, Gimli muttered under his breath about the strange habits of Elves in general and one ‘crazy’ golden haired Wood Elf in particular. It was bad enough, to the Dwarf’s way of thinking, that there were no caves of any sort in the part of the forest where Legolas had decided to build his city, but to make matters worse, the Elves who had come to settle there favoured the flet style accommodations similar to those in Lothlórien; the trees of Ithilien seemed to be full of them, if one knew how to spot them high off the forest floor. Gimli sighed, if the Elf could tolerate visiting his caves at Aglarond, he in turn would suffer the occasional climb into the trees despite his preference to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Smiling inwardly, he amused himself with the knowledge that Legolas had learned many new Dwarfish curses as he spent hours patiently trying to teach his friend the easiest way to climb an Elvish ladder. It had been a mostly unsuccessful venture, for Gimli did not like the ‘flimsy’ rope ladder and a compromise had finally been reached. Leaning against the tree near Legolas’ own flet was a sturdy, wooden, Dwarf-built ladder.

Removing his travelling cloak, he rolled up his sleeves and began the task of inspecting the workmanship, making small corrections to the carvings where he thought it necessary. As he began work on the last one, Gimli noticed that the tabletop was not sitting quite right and he attempted to push the heavy slab of stone into place. After several vain attempts, he thought he felt the stone budge slightly, and as he gathered his strength for one last push, a flash of golden hair caught his eye.

“Legolas!” he called over his shoulder. “How fortuitous that you are here, come and help move this stone.” The Elf approached from behind and with the added strength, the tabletop was placed to Gimli’s satisfaction. “Thank you, that slab was even more stubborn than you are, my friend,” he said turning to face his helper. The colour drained from his face and his smile quickly disappeared as he realised that it was not Legolas whom he was addressing.

“You are welcome, Gimli, son of Glóin. So you think my son is stubborn?” asked the golden haired Elvenking from Eryn Lasgalen. Although they had not yet met, Thranduil easily guessed the Dwarf’s identity.

“I….er…well that is…” Gimli began nervously as soul deep eyes flickering with insult glared at him. “Legolas has been known to be so, King Thranduil,” he finally managed. His father had told him many tales of the King of Mirkwood, as it was once known, and he decided not to let Legolas’ sire intimidate him.

“A fact I can not deny,” agreed Thranduil, casually sitting on the table he had just helped move.

“May I ask what you are doing here? Legolas did not mention you would be coming.” Gimli asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Because he does not know. I intend to surprise him, if it is any concern of yours. I have come for the Midsummer celebrations,” Thranduil replied, looking around the glade and noting the Dwarf’s handiwork before turning his attention to a closer inspection of the tabletop.

“He will be pleased to see you. He often speaks fondly of you,” Gimli said as he sat beside the King and took a swig from his water bottle then offered it to the Elf who declined with a shake of his head.

“As he does of you,” conceded Thranduil as he continued to study the engravings on the tabletop. “The carving is excellent, this pattern of leaves and flowers is much like one Legolas designed when he was still an elfling.”

“Yes, it is the same design. He asked me to use it to remind him of his home, and his Adar,” Gimli said, nodding in affirmation.

“Surprising as it seems, it would appear we actually have something in common,” stated Thranduil as he slowly traced the leaf design with his finger.

“An unlikely occurrence, I agree. To what do you refer?” asked Gimli warily.

“The love and affection of my son,” replied Thranduil seeing acknowledgement of that truth in the Dwarf’s eyes.

“I am on my way to see Legolas, shall I show you to the settlement?” asked Gimli, changing the subject. Thranduil considered explaining to the Dwarf that he knew exactly where to find his son, even though he had never been in these woods, but was saved from such an explanation when Gimli continued. “Although it is probably not necessary, for I recall Legolas telling me that an Elf can easily sense his kin. I suppose he already knows you are here?”

“It is very likely,” agreed Thranduil. “Even could he not feel my presence, he would surely have come across my travelling companions who were eager to reunite with their friends who now live here,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “It is this way, I believe,” he added gesturing towards a barely perceptible path through the trees.

Allowing the King to unerringly lead the way, Gimli followed in silence, his mind in confused turmoil. He knew that Glóin had never forgiven Thranduil for imprisoning him in his dungeons so many years ago, and out of loyalty to his father he had long felt an extreme dislike and distrust of the Elvenking. However since he had come to know Legolas he felt his loyalty was now divided. Gimli had been well aware that there had been spies of the Dark Lord everywhere, and accepted Legolas’ contention that the Elvenking had only sought to protect his realm, that there had been need for caution around strangers in those troubled days. Had Glóin survived the battle to defend Erebor, Gimli was certain that he would not have readily accepted the fact that his son had befriended the son of his enemy. It was apparent that neither did Thranduil. It matters little what either sire might have thought, he decided, The Elvenking was right. Gimli loved Legolas, as both his fellow warrior and his best friend.

As the Dwarf and the elder Elf walked the short distance to where the settlement was located, he wondered how he could have confused the King for his son. True, they both had golden hair and it was obvious that Legolas’ fair features were derived from Thranduil's exceedingly handsome countenance. They were of a similar height and build and the only difference Gimli could actually see was in their eyes. Although they were exactly the same hue, Thranduil’s eyes were filled with a certain hardness and ageless wisdom whereas his son’s shone with the light of one who was still filled with youthful wonder, tempered with just the barest hint of grief. However once in the physical presence of the elder Elf, the difference between father and son was astonishing. The feeling of majesty and power that emanated from Thranduil the like of which he had never felt from Legolas awed Gimli. Well, they look the same from a distance, was the thought that Gimli consoled himself with, hoping that the Elf would not learn that he mistook the King for his son. It was a vain hope, he realised as soon as they walked into the clearing.

“I would have liked to see the look on Gimli’s face when he realised who was really helping him,” said Legolas who was sitting cross-legged on the grass with his back to the new arrivals. The others with him burst into laughter and Gimli sighed; he should have known there would be no keeping a secret from his friend.

“I do not believe I have ever seen such a look of astonishment before, at least not since my encounter with Thorin and his friends,” commented Thranduil with a devilish gleam in his eye. The sound of the King’s voice startled everyone but Legolas. He had already felt Thranduil’s approach and simply turned to face him, a brilliant smile of lighting his face and showing his pleasure at seeing his father again. He rose quickly to his feet and walked over to welcome his sire with an exuberant embrace that was returned with equal enthusiasm and love.

“Hello, Gimli. You are certainly in excellent, if not surprising, company today,” Legolas teased, wondering just what else had transpired between his father and the Dwarf. That they both seemed to be tolerating each other was a good sign he hoped, knowing full well his father’s opinion of Dwarves. It was the main reason he had not yet introduced them, and he admitted to feeling a little relieved that they had now met, however unexpectedly.

“I see you have met my friend Gimli, who is in as good a humour as ever,” he said in a not very private aside to Thranduil.

“Humph,” snorted the Dwarf, as he watched the display of father and son affection. “I hardly expected to find a stray member of your family wandering about in the forest.” Legolas laughed merrily and placed his arm around his friend’s shoulder and winked at his father over the Dwarf’s head.

For his part, the King of Eryn Lasgalen was still not entirely comfortable with his son’s choice of friends. First Legolas and Aragorn had become close, despite his son having been brought up to be wary of the dangers of befriending men. Over the years the Ranger had proven himself loyal and trustworthy and Thranduil could not deny the brotherly affection and comradeship that had developed between the two. He had grown to respect the young soon-to-be king. But the Dwarf! There was such a long history of animosity and unforgivable incidents between Elves and Dwarves in general over the past centuries, not to mention the more recent personal war between himself and Thorin, that Thranduil could not see how any bond of friendship had been possible. Apparently it was, for he saw nothing but genuine love and a deep friendship for the Dwarf in Legolas’ eyes, and in his heart. He could not in clear conscience condone it, but for his son’s sake he would not forbid it. Nor would he speak of it just yet.

“You have certainly chosen a beautiful part of the forest to settle, Legolas,” said Thranduil as he cast his eyes over the clearing and into the trees. Inclining his head to the well-hidden platforms above, he added, “I see you favour flets for your accommodation.”

“Yes, it is wonderful to be able to live safely in the trees and under the stars once more now that the darkness has lifted. Come, I will show you mine,” he said taking his father by the arm, his enthusiasm eliciting a smile as memories of his son as an elfling flashed through Thranduil’s mind. “You are welcome to come too, Gimli,” he added.

“As much as I would like to, I fear I must return to Minas Tirith for now. There are still several projects needing my attention. I will see you at the banquet,” he said as he made to take his leave. Turning to speak to Thranduil, he bowed respectfully and said, “I am pleased to have finally made your acquaintance, King Thranduil. I bid you farewell.” In a few moments the Dwarf had disappeared into the forest, leaving father and son alone.

“It is a strange position I find myself in,” mused Thranduil as he easily climbed the rope ladder to Legolas’ home, smiling as he noticed the sturdy wooden ladder that was obviously for Gimli’s use.

“What do you mean, Adar?” asked Legolas curiously as he silently offered Thranduil a chair and a glass of wine, almost choking on his own with his surprise at his father’s next words.

“I believe I might be actually learning to like your friend Gimli!”

“You! Feeling friendly towards a Dwarf!” he spluttered. Even taking into consideration his acute elvish hearing, Legolas could not believe what he had just heard. “That is extraordinary, but pleasing to hear. May I ask what prompted this change of heart?” he asked as his coughing fit eased and his composure was restored.

“Do not misunderstand, Legolas. My opinion of Dwarves has not altered; I simply find that I am less inclined to hold your friend in low esteem. In the short time we have been acquainted I have seen that he is very loyal to you and values your friendship greatly. Your affection for each other is obvious. Also, I cannot help but begin to feel a slight fondness for one who is in no way intimidated by me. It makes for a refreshing change,” stated Thranduil, in such a way as to make Legolas uncertain as to whether he was speaking seriously or simply jesting. A slight twitch of Thranduil’s lips as he tried to hide a smile convinced him of the latter.

“That is very gracious of you, Adar, but I feel I should inform you now that there will be several other Dwarves at the feast tomorrow night. Unlike Gimli, probably all of them will feel intimidated by the evil Elvenking of their father’s stories,” he said light-heartedly.

“Well, they have nothing to fear from me, after all, there are no dungeons here, are there?” he asked playfully, the mischievous gleam in his eye matched by that in his son’s.

“Only because Gimli refused to build them,” joked Legolas in return, causing Thranduil to laugh uproariously. “He did, however build several other structures for us, would you like a tour of the settlement?”

“Yes, I would. I have already seen the work the Dwarves have done on your outdoor banquet Hall, it is very impressive,” commented Thranduil.

“I have yet to see the completed work. I promised Gimli that I would not spoil his surprise by ‘peeking’ as he put it, until tomorrow night.”

“Then I will say nothing further on the matter,” said Thranduil, now directing his gaze to the ladder propped against the tree. “I take it that your friend stays here at times?” he asked, pointing to Gimli’s means of access to the flet.

“Quite often. I have several small guest rooms, but you are welcome to use my own chamber if they do not suit your taste,” he offered, suddenly realising how primitive his dwelling was compared to the King’s Hall in Eryn Lasgalen. “Come, I will show you to one.” Thranduil was surprised at the actual size of Legolas’ home, and was enchanted with the beauty that was part of every room. The guest room was no less impressive.

“I feel as though I have had walked into a cave made of branches and leaves,” said Thranduil with admiration in his voice as he entered the room Legolas indicated and cast his eyes over the chamber. Rather than walls, the branches of the close standing trees were somehow bound together, forming a living screen that provided privacy as well as a shield from the elements, yet allowed the light of the sun, or the moon to enter the room. The soothing sound of the whispering leaves added to the peaceful aura of pale greenish glow of the dappled shadows that danced on the floor as the midday sun filtered through the leaves. At one end of the room was a large, comfortable looking bed, a dresser and a wardrobe, and at the other a small table separated two large armchairs. The simple yet elegant furniture merely enhanced the total beauty of the room, but what truly amazed Thranduil was the ceiling. He watched in fascination as Legolas pulled on a cord near the bed, drawing back the almost invisible cloth that formed the ceiling, allowing the sunlight to stream in. The effect was stunning, and would have been even more so at night, the Elvenking supposed, when unhindered starlight would fill the room and he could allow the serenity of the stars to lull him to sleep. “The guest room will be more than adequate, and I am now more than eager to see the rest of your settlement.”

“As you wish,” agreed Legolas. “Follow me.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting the various sections of his village, and Legolas was surprised at the interest and knowledge Thranduil displayed in even the most mundane places, such as the common kitchen and the bathing rooms. The work of the Dwarves was evident in both, for they had not only constructed functional structures such as the large oven, or the pool-like baths, but their work was elaborately carved to be pleasing to the eye as well.

The tour finally complete, the two Elves made their way back to the flet and Thranduil was pleased to see that someone had thoughtfully set out a light meal for the two of them on the table in his room. The mood was relaxed as they sat and enjoyed their repast, until Legolas felt the need to satisfy his curiosity.

“You know so much about the basics of building a new village, Adar. What do you think of this one?” Thranduil smiled indulgently as he explained.

“I am most impressed; it is both well designed and aesthetically pleasing. As far as my interest and knowledge is concerned, have you been away from home for so long that you have forgotten that your grandsire also founded a new colony, in a forest that once looked much like this?” he asked, indicating their surroundings with a wave of his hand. “We started from nothing, just as you have and who do you think helped in the building?”

“Of course I have not forgotten, I simply failed to see the analogy, for I am not a king, and Ithilien is not as great a forest as Greenwood once was,” responded Legolas.

“ I suppose the connection is a little difficult to make, especially when you consider that you have established your village to allow you to be closer to Men and Dwarves, and Oropher’s intention was to move as far away from them as possible,” admitted Thranduil. “However, I think what you have already accomplished here is even greater, for you have not only relocated your people, but you have given new life to this place that was made desolate by the shadow. I am very proud of all that has been achieved here, as you should be.”

“Thank you, Adar, but I could not have done this without your encouragement, and that of all of my friends,” stated Legolas, obviously referring to Aragorn, Faramir and Gimli as well as his elvish friends.

“I do have another observation to make,” continued Thranduil, a note of melancholy creeping into his voice. “Everything that has been built here seems to have a somewhat temporary feel to it, as if nothing is intended to be permanent.”

“Nor should it be. The rejuvenation of the trees and other plants is everlasting, but before too much longer, only the growing things will remain,” replied Legolas, a far away look coming into his eyes as an air of sadness descended and Thranduil imagined that he could feel the salty tang of the sea breeze that would soon separate them. Gently lifting Legolas’ chin so that their eyes met, he offered what comfort he could.

“What lies ahead is beyond your control, but do not let thoughts of the future mar the present. Your friends will be here tomorrow night to help you celebrate Midsummer; I suggest you cherish your time together, for even after they are gone, their memory will live forever in you, no matter where you are. Make those memories pleasant ones."




        

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