Hello my friends.  I have been too busy drooling over the loverly Pirates to pay any attention to my useless scribblings.  I am by no means a raving fangirl, but I must admit that I have seen the movie 6, yes, 6 times.  I have way too many girlfriends, I’ve decided. 

Anyway, this chapter marks the pick-up of action in my story.  No more slow, dramatic, over-emotional scenes.  Just lots of fun, I hope.

Thanks to my Beta, Daisy Princess.  Love ya babe!

Chapter Five- Reconciliation of Sorts

Olihre struggled to keep his eyes open.  The rose-colored sunshine that filtered in through the stained-glass windows seemed to shine directly upon him, warming his face and making it very difficult not to drift off into a comfortable repose.

His muscles, though warm and rested now, did not seem quite ready to forget the ordeal that they had been put through the day before.  The fact that he had not slept in a bed last night, but rather in an armchair beside his sister’s bed, did not help to assuage his tired ligaments either.

This won’t do!  Olihre tried taking deep breaths and shaking his head slightly.  I was lucky to even receive an invitation to this event; falling asleep would hardly express my gratitude.

Legolas sat four chairs down from Olihre-- four rather stiff and unyielding chairs, he noted bemusedly.  What is he doing?  He watched as Olihre shook his head in short, jerking movements, as if trying to dislodge an insect from inside of his ear.

Olihre caught Legolas’s questioning gaze from down the row.  Straightening his back as best he could in the impossibly uncomfortable chair, he folded his hands in his lap and pressed his lips together in an outward display of composure. 

Legolas tried hard not to snicker, but the show that Olihre was putting on was quite entertaining.  Lothiriel, sitting right next to Olihre, was doing a good job of ignoring his twitching; that is until Legolas let out a hardly suppressed snort.  At that, she and her father directed their eyes incredulously at Legolas, while Gimli, who was the third person sitting between them, peered down at Olihre and shook his head.

Catching Olihre’s eyes once more, Legolas raised his eyebrows in a mockingly authoritative manner, and then turned back to focus on the ceremony that was being held some feet away in the anterior of the enormous stone chamber. 

Aragorn stood on a small, raised platform, while Faramir and Eowyn stood directly in front of him.  To their sides were Eomer and Arwen, acting as attendants.  The high stone walls amplified the sound of Aragorn’s voice, causing it to reverberate in a rather enchanting way.  Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath, listening as the King continued the wedding ceremony that had begun almost an hour earlier with the exchanging of sacred vows.

Some time later, after having caught Olihre dozing several times, Legolas was relieved to hear the ceremony drawing to an end.  Applause erupted from the joyous congregation, celebrating the union of the Lord and Lady, and did not die down again until Aragorn announced that a special luncheon was to be served in the banquet hall.   

“I’ve yet to understand why humans insist on having a long-winded discourse every time one of their kin chooses to be wed.” Gimli rumbled as Legolas stretched languidly beside him.

“I’m afraid you would loath an elvish ceremony then, my impatient friend.  They tend to go on for days at a time,” Legolas paused as a playful grin danced across his features, “though most of that time is spent with food, drink, and…good…company.”

“Good company indeed!  That is another thing I’ll never fathom.  When two dwarves marry, it is only their closest kin who assemble, not the entire blasted Kingdom!  And even then, they only gather for long enough to gift the couple.  Vows needn’t be exchanged in public.  If I agree to shelter my mate, and she agrees to care for my property, those are all the vows that are needed!”

Legolas laughed easily, though his attention was quickly averted as Olihre crept up behind the dwarf.  Leaning over carefully, he bellowed loudly in Gimli’s ear, “That’s my kind of an arrangement!” 

Gimli jumped what seemed to be several feet, and Legolas had no doubt that were Gimli armed with his ax, Olihre would likely be missing several important appendages.  Once Gimli stopped swearing, Olihre stood straight and added, “Do you suppose you could arrange a dwarfish wife for me?”  

“You’re beginning to take after that accursed elf mi’lad, and let me assure you, female dwarfs don’t like sneaky scoundrels any more than I do!”  Gimli stroked his beard and turned to the ‘accursed elf.’  “I’m going to eat-- I suggest that you two scarecrows follow suit!”

Legolas nodded obligingly as he turned on his heel and glided down the aisle, calling back to Olihre, “I saw Gav poke his head in a little while ago.”

Olihre rolled his eyes.  He really didn’t need to be reminded of the situation at hand.  He had spent the entire night by his sister’s bedside, as had Gaviwyr, though neither would speak to him.  In Xanthe’s defense, she was asleep most of the time-- the exposure having taken its toll on her body.  Gaviwyr had sat across from him, astutely avoiding eye contact, busying himself with sharpening his weapons, which seemed a never-ending pile.

When morning came, both men had awoken to the sound of Xanthe clearing her throat purposefully and asking to be left alone while she bathed.  Olihre had suggested that she eat something first, to which she had inclined-- but to Gaviwyr-- she refused to even recognize Olihre’s presence in the room.  While sulking back to his own quarters, Eomer had found him and informed him that somehow he was still invited to Eowyn and Faramir’s wedding ceremony.

“Yes,” Olihre finally responded, catching up to Legolas.  “Xanthe was ordered to stay in bed and rest, and I didn’t suppose that Gav would want to leave her.  I’m glad he got to see a bit of the ceremony though.”

“I’m sure he saw enough,” Legolas drawled before breaking away from the rest of the group.  When he received curious glances from them, he hurriedly explained, “I think I will arrange for the kitchen staff to send some food to your sister’s room.  I’m sure they are both famished.”

Olihre nodded and watched Legolas leave, trepidation immediately beginning to plague him.  Legolas was the only one in the palace who wasn’t treating him like a daft child.  There is Gimli I suppose.  Gimli didn’t treat him like anything at all.  If anything, he was sure that the Dwarf Lord barely even realized his presence.

Olihre was pulled out of his musings when their current subject turned to him and grinned fiendishly.  “Having trouble staying awake were you?”

Olihre grimaced, though he was happy for the distraction.  “It’s been a long couple of days.”

“And the entirety of the last was spent with an elf, no less.” Gimli chuckled at his own joke while winding his way through the crowd towards a banquet table piled high with vittles.  “That is an effort that always seems to tire me, and I am a dwarf!”

“And that’s saying a lot, isn’t it?” Olihre jested, being careful not to sound demeaning.  He had been warned of the folly of offending a dwarf lord.

“It certainly is lad!  You know, the elf could take some lessons from you in how to properly handle my kind.  He seems to think that riling us is a wise course of action.”

Olihre had no intention of choosing sides, and he wasn’t afraid to let it be known.  “Even if I were foolish enough to try to instruct your supercilious friend, do you really suppose he would pay any heed to what I said?”

Gimli tossed him a sideways look, a dangerous mask covering his face.  “You learn quickly, my VERY young friend.”  With that he broke into a lopsided grin.  “If not for the bravery that Legolas has described in you, I would think you a lily-soft evader!”

Olihre had no idea what the dwarf was saying, but his interest was peaked by a part of his mumblings.  “Legolas said WHAT about me?”

Rolling his eyes, Gimli turned to Olihre, gesturing dramatically with his hands as he spoke.  “Legolas has alleged that despite your age and rather unsubstantial appearance, you are actually quite hardy and useful.”

“Really?  I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered by that.  I suppose it doesn’t matter either way; Legolas doesn’t seem the type to reaffirm anyone’s suspicions.”

“Like I said Lad, you learn quickly.  Come, let us eat.”    

*          *          *

Making his way quickly from the kitchen to the living quarters, Legolas mused on what he was going to say when he arrived.  Or more specifically, he wondered why he was about to say what he knew he was going to say, when he arrived.

“He’s only a man, after all.”  His musical voice pondered aloud as he flew down the corridors, balancing a tray as he went.  When he arrived at Xanthe’s door, he straightened his tunic, almost nervously, he noted with chagrin. 

“Come in,” a pleasant and yet wary voice called back in response to his knock. 

“It is only I,” Legolas reassured as he entered her room.  Gaviwyr was still in his armchair, while Xanthe was propped up by pillows in her bed.

“Have I interrupted anything?” Legolas asked, noting a journal that lay open on Xanthe’s lap.  “I’ve brought you some food.”

“Nothing we wouldn’t postpone for some nourishment, Legolas, thank you.”  Xanthe closed the book on her lap and handed it to Gaviwyr, who smiled slightly and deposited it on the bedside table.

“We were just reminiscing,” he said as he jumped up to assist Legolas with the unloading of the tray.

“Ah, never a better past time,” Legolas raised his eyebrows puckishly, “especially if you don’t mind trouble.”

“Uhhh…” Xanthe moaned, “We’ve had more than enough of that.”

“No doubt,” Legolas stopped short, leaving an almost awkward pause.  “Speaking of trouble, I was wondering if perhaps you would allow me to take a bit of yours off your hands.”

Xanthe looked at him with bewilderment.  “What do you refer to?”

“Your brother,” he stated promptly, holding up his hand to indicate that he wanted to explain further before he received a response.  “I know he is not on your favorable list right now, which is why I am proposing what I am.”

“And what exactly are you proposing?” Xanthe re-arranged the covers around her legs unconsciously, glancing at Gaviwyr to see how he was dealing with this proposal.

“I am not entirely sure as to Olihre’s duties at home, which is why I wanted to speak to you first.  It seems to me that he has an inordinate amount of energy which is compounding without any outlet for expulsion.  You wonder why he is constantly causing trouble, and I think this is why.”

“And?” Xanthe couldn’t help but smile at the elf’s summation of her brother.

“And, Gimli and I are planning to do some more roaming as soon as we are able.  Olihre would make a good companion, and I daresay he would benefit from the opportunity.”

Gaviwyr scoffed at that.  “A good way to teach him a lesson!  Let him hurt his loved ones and then send him off to camp with the elves!”

Xanthe bit her lip, resolved to speak her part, but hesitant to blight anyone.  She resorted to sarcasm.  “Well I suppose it is only fair.  After all, Eomer gets to return to Rohan as King!”

“Though I think I’ll lock him in the dungeon if I ever get the chance!” Gaviwyr stood and walked to the bed, sitting beside Xanthe and taking her hand.  “In all seriousness Xan, I can think of no better situation for your brother.  If anyone can teach him to school his compulsiveness, it is Legolas.”

“I agree, and though I am hesitant to commit to this, I do not wish to punish my brother.  He has suffered enough, I think.”  A distant look came into Xanthe’s green eyes, filling their depths with emotion.  “He deserves to be happy.  He’s spent most of his life taking care of me.  He has sacrificed greatly for me, and I would do anything to ensure his happiness.”  Blinking a few times to dispel the liquid from her eyes, Xanthe turned to Legolas, “Though it is of course his decision, as well as my mother’s, and he has agreed to help my Uncle with the horses, a commitment he will take seriously.”

“Eomer and I have already discussed that,” Legolas asserted, pacing to the window and looking out over the snow.  “Eomer says that he has many a stable hand who would be honored to serve your Uncle.”

Neither human in the room looked thrilled upon the mention of the King of Rohan.  Legolas continued staring out the window, giving them both an opportunity to silently concur their thoughts.  After a few moments of silence he turned back around. 

“I wanted to bring this to you first, before I approach him about it.  Do I have your sanction?”

Xanthe and Gaviwyr looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously shrugging their shoulders.  “As long as you and Gimli know what you’re getting yourselves into.” Xanthe sighed.

“I am sure it won’t be a problem, he is only a human after all.”

Legolas had never had a pillow thrown at him before. 

*          *          *

“So there we were, surrounded by Goblins, trying to find our way in the dark of Moria, when suddenly, an abominable shudder was felt in the earth, shaking us to the very ground…”

Olihre was so engrossed in Gimli’s recounting of the Fellowship’s meeting with a Balrog, that he didn’t ever notice when Legolas walked up beside him.

“Uh-hum,” Legolas wasn’t pleased with the need to announce his presence so commonly.  People usually noticed when he approached, always making a point to include him in the throng.  “I hate to interrupt, but knowing my friend Gimli here, you will be listening to this story still as the sun sets, and I have a rather pressing matter to bring to you.”

Gimli huffed in a most offended way, grumbling about the manners of the Firstborn, or lack thereof, as he so blatantly put it.  Olihre took a deep breath before nodding graciously at Gimli, and then turning expectantly to the elf.

“Yes?” he asked plainly.

“Have you ever traveled out of these lands, Olihre?”  Legolas leaned back on the bench, balancing in a spectacularly abnormal way.

“I’ve moved from Osgiliath to Rohan.  Other than that, no.  Why?”

“How do you feel about traveling?”

Olihre felt a spark of elation alight in his heart, but he fought to keep his wits about him.  “It has been my dream to be able to see as much of Middle Earth as possible, before I am too old, or otherwise occupied.  Unfortunately, it seems that I am already otherwise occupied, helping my family.”

That about sums it up.  Legolas was amused by the concise answer he received, reaffirming his conjecture that Olihre was sharp and would catch onto his scheming quickly.  “What if I could free you from those obligations…for the time being?”

“I would be skeptical, initially.”  Legolas looked slightly affronted but Olihre quickly continued, noting the look of triumph on Gimli’s face.  “But after having heard the tales and triumphs of your company, I would not be in the least surprised to see you succeed with such a promise.”

Legolas looked pacified, but noted dryly.  “Not to mention my word is my honor.”

Olihre chuckled, winking at the dwarf who in turn looked slightly uncomfortable.  “Not to mention that, of course.”

“So will you be coming with us then?”  Legolas looked about as expectant as an elf of his age could.

“Coming where?”  Olihre was enjoying his sudden, if not miraculous and confusing position of power.

“How do you humans put it, Olihre?  Oh yes…YOU’RE PUSHING IT!”  Legolas again looked put out at having to demean himself through resorting to human habits and phrases.

Olihre knew when to stop, or nearly anyway.  “You’re right, Master Elf,” he picked Gimli’s second favorite title for the Mirkwood Prince.  “I would be honored and overjoyed to go anywhere you may deem to take me!  Is that inclusive enough?”

“T’is,” Legolas admitted, turning to Gimli and raising his shoulders.  “How do you feel about this?  Can you handle this impertinent human for a time?”

Raiding his eyebrows in an appraising gesture, Gimli surveyed Olihre, who was doing his best to look angelic.  “I suppose it couldn’t be any worse than it already is.”  Getting to his feet, Gimli imposed himself right in front of Olihre, nearly stepping on his toes.  “Tell me this, Lad, how do you feel about caves?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been in one, though I’m sure I’ll enjoy them readily enough.  I spend most of my time in dark, dingy stables with my horses.  It can’t be much different than a cave, can it?”

Gimli looked incensed while Legolas nearly turned red with restrained laughter.  “’Dark, dingy stables!’  You cannot possibly be so empty-headed as to compare my homes to ‘dark, dingy stables!’”  Gimli seemed to have finished, but surprised them with more.  “And horses!  Ahhgg!”

“My apologies, My Lord Dwarf.  I was merely referring to the lighting conditions and…lack of…room.  Yes, the smallness of a cave.  That is what I was referring to.” 

“Smallness!”  Gimli looked as a dwarfish father who’s firstborn suddenly decided to take to the trees. 

“Olihre,” Legolas whispered quite loudly, “you’re doing it again!”

“Pushing it?” Olihre asked.

Legolas nodded.  “Gimli,” he said turning to the dwarf, “I’m afraid you will simply have to show our uneducated friend here.  It seems that he hasn’t the context in which to imagine such a thing.”

“I certainly shall!”  Gimli turned to Olihre.  “Be you glad that my cousins were not here.  They may very likely have gutted you for such a delinquency!  But come, let us settle our differences and start on a new foot, so to speak.”

Olihre looked very relieved as he turned to Legolas, who was scowling.  “You’ve never pardoned me so easily!” Legolas growled.

“The boy’s crime is ignorance-- yours is obstinance.”  And that was that.  Gimli turned and jaunted off towards the bride and groom, leaving Olihre and Legolas grinning at each other.