Legacy

Chapter 2.  A Dwarf Among Elves

The pale yellow fingers of sunlight had barely began to part the curtain of mist that hung over Rivendell as Legolas decided to forgo any further attempt to rest and instead make his way to the stables.  He had barely reached the pathway that led to his destination when he stopped for a few moments to listen to the only sounds to be heard in the early morn; the gentle whisper of the waterfalls and the sweet singing of the birds as they chirped a welcome to the new day. The song faded slowly and he reluctantly left the ensuing peace and tranquillity behind as he entered the yard where many scouting parties were, rather noisily for Elves, he thought, preparing to leave on their assigned errands. He was pleased to see the group wearing the greens and browns of Mirkwood seemed to be going about their task in a much more efficient, and more quiet manner and he smiled a quick greeting at the elves who were to accompany him east through the Misty Mountains and on to their home.

As he turned to enter the stables he found his way barred.

A large number of the Elves had gathered in the yard to watch the rather impressive display of both strength and control, as Glóin and his son skilfully sparred and practiced with their battleaxes. The blades were extremely sharp, but neither Dwarf had sustained as much as a scratch. Although the contestants were evenly matched, and had it not been for the few beads of sweat on his brow, no one would have known that Glóin was the elder of the two. The mock battle finished to an appreciative round of applause from the unlikely audience before the Elves returned to their own interests.

“You are about your business early today are you not, Master Elf?” enquired Glóin from the stable doorway where he was now standing, leaning rather heavily on his axe.

“Not that it should be of concern to you, Master Dwarf, but I was unable to sleep last night for there was a rather loud and raucous noise echoing through the passageways around the guest chambers. I have not heard such loud snoring since your kind were last in Mirkwood,” Legolas replied in a tone of voice that indicated his displeasure at both incidents, past and present.

“If that is an accusation, then make sure it is directed to the real culprit. My lord father does not snore, I do!” Gimli snarled defensively.

“That could prove to be unfortunate,” said Legolas dryly, thinking that such a noise would easily attract the attention of the Dark Lord’s minions, and thus would prove to be a hindrance on the journey to come. He did not speak his thoughts out loud since he was unsure as to whether Elrond had yet approached Gimli in regards to accompanying the Ring Bearer.

 “Your words make no sense, but then that is surely to be expected from an Elf,” muttered Gimli under his breath, but not so softly that his father and Legolas did not hear.

“Mind your tongue Gimli!” said Glóin sternly, glaring at his son. “I also have little love for Elves, especially those in Mirkwood, but do not demean yourself by speaking base insults!” Gimli bowed his head in acceptance of the rebuke, and to hide the glowering rage in his eyes, which was matched by the flames of anger in the bright elf eyes.

“Are you leading one of the scouting parties to Mirkwood, Master Elf?” asked Glóin conversationally, in an attempt to divert the two from any further confrontation, as he stood aside and allowed Legolas to lead his horse from its stall and into the yard.

“Ai, I must make haste and deliver the ill news I learned at the council to King Thranduil,” replied the Elf, deliberately stressing his adar’s title, causing Gimli to snort rudely, until he caught the warning in Gloin’s eye.

“And good riddance…  er… I mean…  a wise decision,” he said making a rather halfhearted attempt to be polite out of respect for his father, and most definitely not the Elf.

“Indeed, and it behoves me to do likewise,” agreed Glóin, glaring a warning once more at his son. “King Dáin must also hear of the finding of the One Ring. Shall I have him send word to Brand of Dale, or will you ask your father do so, Legolas?”

“Since I am likely to arrive in Mirkwood before you reach Erebor, I will request that a warning be sent to the Men of Dale,” replied the Elf, who knew that despite the fact that Thranduil had little contact with any outside his realm, he would nonetheless offer his help to King Brand, and quite possibly Dáin as well, if the need arose.

“Excellent! In the dark times ahead, the Free People of Middle Earth would do well to assist each other, rather than bear grudges,” declared Elrond, who had approached silently, and seen only a small part of the interplay between the Dwarves and Legolas.

“Then I will take my leave, Master Elrond,” said Legolas respectfully as he placed his hand on his heart. “Do you have the letter for Adar?”

“Ai,” answered Elrond, with a quick nod of his head. He reached into the inner pocket hidden in the folds of his robes, and drew out a sealed envelope. “I ask that you give my regards to Thranduil, but do not linger in his Hall too long… time grows short,” he said with a sense of urgency behind the words. Elrond handed the cream coloured parchment missive to Legolas, who, without another word, mounted his steed and led his group through the gates and over the bridge that formed the beginning of the road out of Rivendell.

But for a strange shimmer in the air, and the faintest touch of a breeze on their faces, the Dwarves would never have known that the Elves had passed by, so swiftly and unseen did they travel.

“Master Glóin, would you and Gimli meet with me in my library after breakfast? There is a matter of great importance we need to discuss,” asked Elrond as he also watched the last of the elven scouts leave.

“That sounds rather ominous, Master Elrond, but we will do as you ask,” replied Glóin, not having the faintest notion as to the reason for such a meeting, unless it was to offer advice regarding Sauron’s threats against the King under the Mountain and his people.

The maid had barely removed the remnants of the morning meal that Elrond had chosen to eat in his library when Glóin and Gimli arrived. Taking the seats they were offered, the Dwarves waited in impatient silence for Elrond, who was studying some very old looking maps, to speak. The elder Dwarf was just about to ask a question, when the Lore Master finally paid them heed.

“As you are aware, Frodo and Samwise intend to take the One Ring south, and hopefully destroy it in the fires from whence it came,” said Elrond, reiterating the goal of the ring bearer that had been decided at the council meeting the day before.

“Yes, yes, we have heard the stories, and the decision, but please do get on with asking whatever it is you want of us,” begged Gimli whose curiosity was now fully piqued.

“I have decided, or rather I believe it was decided by powers over which I have no sway, that at least one representative from each race should accompany Frodo and Sam. I believe, as does Gandalf, that each race should have a hand in releasing Middle Earth forever from the threat of the Shadow,” said Elrond with a passion and a hatred he did not normally display. The war between Sauron and the Elves had lasted through millennia, and had cost many Elves their lives as well as the destruction of their lands.

“To that end, I ask that you allow Gimli to become one of the Nine Walkers I will ultimately select,” Elrond asked of Glóin.

“My son would be honoured to accept such a task, would you not Gimli?” answered the father before the son had a chance to speak for himself.

“Aye, I would,” agreed Gimli.

“Even if Legolas is also to be one of the Walkers?” enquired Elrond, raising one eyebrow to indicate he was aware of the animosity between the two sons of fathers who were once great enemies. Both Elvish and Dwarvish memories were long, and past hurts often remained unforgiven forever.

“It would be a trial, that is for certain, but one Gimli will easily overcome. My son is both strong and wise,” Gloin said with such confidence in his son that Gimli actually blushed with pride.

“ I will not allow that Elf to take all the glory if the quest is achieved, no matter what hardship or insult I am forced to endure,” stated Gimli adamantly. “Of course, that is not the main reason, for I would be genuinely honoured to be included in such an important errand. Have no fear, Master Elrond; the Elf will be in no danger from my axe or me! For the sake of all, I will try to tolerate him on this dangerous venture,” he said, apparently forgetting to whom he was speaking.

 “Although sometimes his wisdom is well hidden behind untimely insults,” Glóin added in an aside to Elrond.

“I am not unaware of that,” commented Elrond referring to the elder Dwarf’s last words. “I am however, pleased that you have such great faith in Gimli and you should be relieved to hear that Legolas also has no desire to do Sauron’s work for him,” assured Elrond, allowing a small smile of amusement to travel from his lips to his eyes as Gimli finally realised that by insulting Elf kind in general, he was also insulting Elrond.

“I meant no offence to you, Master Elrond,” he said apologetically, unable to stop the dark red spots of embarrassment that added colour to his cheeks.

“I am not offended for I know only too well that it is sometimes difficult to forget past events and prejudices,” replied Elrond sadly.

“I take it that the Nine Walkers will not be leaving until all the scouts have reported back to you?” asked Glóin. Elrond nodded. “Then I will now do as I said earlier, and travel back to Erebor and pass the news on to my King.”

“If you wish, I will provide an escort for you as far as the pass through the Misty Mountains,” offered Elrond.

“Thank you, but that will not be necessary, Master Elrond. We Dwarves are well aware of the dangers, and can protect ourselves and even were we to encounter danger once we cross the mountains. We have already paid the outrageously high toll for passage through the Beorning’s woods, so no harm will befall us once we reach their realm,” said Glóin, with a slight nod of his head to indicate both his gratitude and respect for the Elf’s concern for the well being of the travellers.

Later that day, all of the Dwarves who had accompanied Glóin, except for Gimli, bid Elrond and Rivendell farewell and began the long march back to the Lonely Mountain.

“I fear it is bound to be a long and tedious time for me alone here,” Gimli said to Elrond as they watched the departure from the balcony outside the library.

“There is much to see and do in Rivendell. Perhaps you would like to spend some time visiting our forge, and see how the elven smiths work? Or study the many stone carvings that are a part of the Last Homely House. Such knowledge may well be of use to you in times to come,” suggested Elrond in a manner that spoke to the Dwarf of knowledge not yet revealed, and yet another of the strange powers of the Firstborn.

“Perhaps that may be so, and even if it is not, I would welcome the chance to compare techniques with elven masters, for as deeply as it pains me to admit it, we Dwarves have also lost much of our skill and craftsmanship. It saddens me to realise that it is not only the Elven realms that are slowly diminishing,” said Gimli.

“Take heart, all is not yet lost,” said Elrond placing a comforting hand lightly on the Dwarf’s shoulder. “On the morrow, I will arrange for one of the smiths to act as your guide, but for now, shall we make haste?  I believe the bell for the evening meal has rung, and I saw the Hobbits walking with great haste towards the dining hall.”