A Friend in Need
Chapter 3
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Aragorn and Gimli were making good progress in their tracking. The
Ranger’s skills were exemplary; he had an uncanny knack for not only
finding barely visible clues, but also of envisioning the past events
that had created those clues.
He says he has a small percent of Elf
blood in his line…I would say he
has a drop of wizard blood as well. Gimli was highly impressed
of the
man, even as his worries for the elf increased due to the unfolding
events Aragorn was finding evidence of. Neither dwarf nor man harbored
sincere belief that it was only a game or joke Legolas was embroiled
in, yet they could not judge why anyone in Rohan should deliberately
wish the elf harm. Gimli stopped abruptly as the Ranger stiffened.
Voices. Now mayhap the mystery will
be solved.
Giving a last cautioning gesture for the dwarf to stay silent behind
him, Aragorn eased along the wall to peer around the corner. His blood
boiled at the sight that met his eyes – just outside a cell stood a
large, heavy man holding another being in his arms, the one held
instantly recognized by his golden hair and soft glow. That Legolas did
not wish to be in the man’s clutches was obvious by the way the elf
squirmed and protested. Final evidence of the situation being deadly
serious was given as Aragorn noted the gag and bindings; he winced at
spying pink tinges on the strands of rope surrounding the elf’s wrists.
Another voice caught the Ranger’s attention. It cannot be. A moment
later Grima came into view, and Aragorn felt a chill shiver over him.
He was to retreat to Saruman, yet has
somehow tarried hidden here; does
he now intend to flee with Legolas as hostage? I will never allow it!
He fought the urge to leap forward and slice both the traitorous
advisor and his servant into pieces. They
would see me coming too soon
and threaten further harm to Legolas. I must bide until they turn away
from me; hopefully fortune shall grant an extra boon and Wormtongue
shall also move a pace from the other. Steeling himself to wait,
watch
and listen, Aragorn’s only indication of mounting fury was his
white-knuckled grip on the pommel of his sword.
Morfran, concerned over his Master’s temper, made an attempt at humor,
“It seems our ‘guest’ is no longer enamored of our hospitality.” He
indicated Legolas, who had stilled and was warily watching Grima
approach.
Seeing no prominent injury, the ex-counselor was satisfied with the
elf’s condition. Using a tone of sympathy as false as his smile, Grima
indirectly addressed his prisoner, “I can hardly blame him for that. I
am afraid my own Master may not be inclined to have sufficient
appreciation of the full range of services one of his kind and
quality
is able to provide.” The strange expression seen earlier on Grima’s
face came again, but dropped away even swifter than before and the
man’s full attention focused on the fuming elf.
Grima’s hand rose; pallid fingers stroked greedily across Legolas’
forehead, then down the side of the elf’s face to rest possessively
against his cheek. “Mayhap Saruman will be too busy on our arrival to
give you his proper attentions, and after we win the imminent great
battle, mayhap he will continue to have other things to occupy his
varied interests. Mayhap he even may then be persuaded to release
you…to me.” At the last words, Grima leaned close, his breath hot on
the elf’s sensitive ear. Legolas twisted his head aside in disgust, and
would have spat at the man if he could have. Chuckling mirthlessly,
Grima backed away. “We waste no more time here. Come.” Confident of his
servant’s obedience, he started off to where the horses were
readied.
Giving his own leer to the despairing captive, Morfran once more
tightened his grip before following his Master. The guard took scarcely
two steps before halting and calling out.
Grima, several paces ahead, turned and hissed, “What is it…now?” His
anger transformed to shock as he watched the guard sink to his knees.
Morfran’s arms lowered, almost gently releasing Legolas to the ground;
the man continued to keel over, his body pinning the elf in place. With
dead weight, it became apparent, as from that perspective both Grima
and Legolas could plainly see the hilt of the dagger embedded in the
guards’ back, and presumably his heart.
Some distance down the corridor behind the fallen guard, a glint caught
Grima’s eye. He felt paralyzed as from the shadows strode the very man
originally intended for capture. The Ranger’s face was cold and set as
stone while his eyes blazed like fire; his voice was sharp as the
glistening edge of the drawn sword he raised. “You are next.”
Grima goggled, numb with disbelief that things could go so wrong
against him. He let loose the breath he had not realized he’d been
holding, and was suddenly infused with an surge of uncharacteristically
bold, and most likely suicidal, defiance. He cast his gaze back to the
servant and prisoner now lost to him. Nay,
not both. I am still the
nearer to the elf. I shall accomplish my revenge…if I cannot claim the
fair one, neither shall he belong to any other.
Brandishing his dagger, Grima snarled and dashed towards the trapped
elf. Aragorn hastened his own motion to counteract his foe’s dastardly
intent. The Ranger briefly bared clenched teeth, a scathing curse
escaping through them. As the last word was uttered, Aragorn found
himself abruptly swept aside as a bellowing whirlwind comprised of
russet hair and leather along with silver steel thundered past.
Gimli, staying behind the man per Aragorn’s command, had been unable to
see what the Ranger had seen around the corner, but the dwarf’s hearing
had not been hindered. When Aragorn made his move and spoke out, Gimli
took that as the signal of release from his own vow of stillness and
silence. At the developments following the guard’s demise, Gimli
decided to take matters in his own hands. Legolas is my friend, too;
and while Aragorn is a better than adequate fighter, I will not depend
solely on the man to accomplish our elf’s rescue. There was also
the
dwarf’s desire to literally cut Grima down to size for the obnoxious
man’s insults to the elf. I know
exactly which part shall be hewn off
first; after that, I may let Legolas choose.
The charging apparition of a furious, axe-brandishing dwarf caused
Grima to falter in his momentum. In a split second, the dwarf was
closer to the man than the man to the elf. The ex-counselor felt his
bravado falter also before fleeing altogether, pulling the man swiftly
with it, an enraged Gimli hot on his heels.
Aragorn, having regained his balance and breath, resheathed his sword
and hurried to his prone friend. The Ranger shoved the guard’s body
aside, retrieving the dagger and wiping it clean on the dead man’s
tunic. He gave the elf a quick perusal with a healer’s eye; relieved to
see no obvious wounds other than a sizable bump above the elf’s brow,
he yet hesitated to move Legolas before ascertaining any internal
injury. “Is there damage?” At a negative shake of the elf’s head,
Aragorn knelt and helped his friend sit, then removed the offensive gag
before going to work on the ropes.
Legolas leaned against the Ranger, basking in the comfort of his
dearest friend. Once freed, the elf assured that he only looked the
worse for wear. “I have some soreness of arms and legs from the
restricting ropes; my wrists, though raw, are already starting to heal
and are nearly more itchy than painful; the two head bumps will
probably be quite tender for another day or so. All considered, I am
just fine.” Telling Aragorn was not sufficient – the man had to gently
poke and prod to his own satisfaction until certain that Legolas really
was ‘fine’.
Aragorn came finally to inspect the lump on the back of the elf’s head.
Affirming Legolas’ health on the mend due to aid of natural Elven
healing ability, the Ranger felt the need for a bit of levity. Keeping
a straight face, he intoned, “We should be duly thankful you are gifted
with such a thick skull, my hard-headed friend.”
The elf retaliated in usual fine form, instantly giving Aragorn’s own
head a sound swat. “You should mind your words, friend, as it takes one
of a same kind to know such a thing.”
Aragorn was heartened at the quick recovery, yet sensed Legolas
suffered pain of some still hidden wound. Not a physical one; Elves are
prone more to languish from hurt of the heart or spirit. Having heard
and seen as I have here, I must know if worse befell ere we came upon
him. The man tipped the elf’s face to look directly at him and
impress
the true gravity of his question. “You suffered no other damage of any
kind?”
“Only to my pride….though I fear I could not say the same had you not
made such timely arrival.” Legolas’ gaze held deep gratitude for the
answer to his earlier silent plea.
The words triggered in Aragorn’s mind grotesque images of possible
fates that might have awaited the elf. He embraced Legolas and breathed
in deeply the vibrant ‘green’ scent of the wood-elf Prince, enabling
the man to shut out the horrid scenes. Calmed again, he queried his
friend, “How came you to such predicament?”
“Twas by my own folly.” The elf’s face lightly flushed in
embarrassment. “I had thought to do a good deed, saving what I was led
to believe was an ailing human forsaken here in his misery.” His soft
voice grew hard in self condemnation. “Alas, I cannot lay full blame on
any other; my intentions were also self serving. I had hoped this
endeavor would result in my being less an object of curiosity to the
Rohan people.” Catching the Ranger’s concerned frown, Legolas hastily
clarified, “I’ve not been mistreated…well, prior to this incident. A
few have shown wariness of me, and my ‘ways’ – I do not begrudge them
so, as they were no worse to me than I have been to others in my past.
If there is any true fault of the majority, tis that they are over
solicitous.” The elf gave a dramatic sigh to enhance his next
statement. “I tire of only ever looking down upon them from the high
pedestal they insist to place me on.”
Aragorn’s frown lifted, but his heart still was troubled. “You should
have told me of this sooner, for your concerns are mine as well. Nay, I
know your arguments and none hold sway. I was busy, but was not nor
ever shall be so busy that you may not interrupt for any matter you
consider important. As for faults, I place yours as being too
good-hearted for your own welfare.” He gazed fondly at his pouting
friend. “Though I would take no wealth of coin, or gem, or any other
bribe to cause you to change.”
The Ranger’s words had an unexpected effect, as Legolas’ breath hitched
and a tremor rippled through his body. Change…I very nearly came to,
and not a bit for the better… The elf tried to explain to his
increasingly worried friend. “You speak of my…changing. I had so
feared…I would be…but not of my will, or liking.” The horror was still
too fresh; though he tried to hold it back, it burst forth like flood
water through a broken dam. “And worse even than…the abomination they
would make of me…was that thus I would be returned to face…to battle
loved ones…loved no more, and… and…” The stricken elf could not bear to
continue.
Perceiving where his friend’s dark thoughts led, Aragorn merely
tightened his embrace, rubbing soothing circles against the trembling
elf’s tense back. Suddenly overwhelmed at how near he’d come to losing
his heart-brother, the Ranger was grateful to be already on his knees,
for his legs would not have supported him standing. After a few
moments, both beings were able to regain a semblance of calm.
Aragorn pulled back, steel gray eyes meeting sky blue ones. “You will
not dwell on such thoughts, for that evil did not befall you, nor shall
it ever while I have breath to draw.”
Legolas eyes widened at the Ranger’s vehemence. “Have you the gift of
foresight now, or mayhap you took an extra peek in the Lady’s Mirror
whilst we sojourned in Lorien?” He forced a light tone to his words,
but the man would have none of jesting now.
“I have not, and I did not. You have only my vow, by Elbereth if need
be, that such an evil fate never take you while I live. In return, I
need only your vow to believe me and not allow imaginings from this
trauma to bring you fading grief. Promise me, stubborn elf.”
I believe in you, Estel. “The
evil that touched me shall fade, not I.
You have my promise on that; are you satisfied now, nagging human?” A
hint of a smile curved the lips on both faces.
Both sets of ears picked up the stomping and grumbling sounds of a
returning dwarf. As Gimli rounded the corner, Aragorn stood and
welcomed him back. “You appear unbloodied. Even at the pace you set,
did the miscreant yet outdistance you and escape?”
Gimli was relieved of a portion of his bleakness, seeing the Ranger not
ministering to Legolas, and the elf himself up kneeling with all
apparently intact. “Aarrh. I might have had him, except at the tunnel
end was waiting a steed the traitor mounted and was away on. Even an
excellent sprinter as myself, having only two legs, cannot match a
horse in running. Of course, I could have thrown my axe at the animal’s
legs and brought them both down…” Seeing Legolas wince, he quickly
added, “But I had no real animosity for the beast; no doubt if it were
capable of genuine awareness, it would have thrown its rider and
stomped him flat.”
Legolas sorrowed for the poor creature. “Though Grima’s steed be not of
good Rohirrim stock, still it does not deserve the reception it shall
receive at its destination.” Orcs
and goblins are cruel to all things,
even so amongst themselves.
Daft elf…he frets too much for others
and not enough for himself.
“Better for such as a horse rather than an Elf to become Orc fodder.”
He immediately regretted his words as he noted the elf pale and the
Ranger frown. “Aule’s Hammer strike
me! Will I never learn to think
upon my words before opening this cavern of a mouth and spilling them
forth? He had recently been made aware of the circumstances of
Orc
origins, terrible even without all the minute details.
Before the dwarf could venture a suitable apology, a commanding voice
rang out. “Gimli, come here.” Feeling too guilty to chastise the elf
for displaying a ‘Royal attitude’, Gimli shuffled forward, head down,
axe slowly lowering to almost drag the ground. Upon reaching arms'
length of Legolas, the dwarf laid his weapon to the floor, then stood
waiting for what he deemed proper punishment. The corner of an eye saw
a slim arm snake out, and Gimli resisted flinching from the expected
swat. Instead, the arm continued around to the back of his neck; the
dwarf suddenly found a strong chest against his own, soft hair brushing
his wiry beard, and a warm voice whispering in his ear. “Thank you,
Gimli.”
Awkwardly patting the elf’s back, Gimli blinked to clear his eyes of
their sudden mistiness. Seconds later, the dwarf grasped Legolas’
shoulders and gently pushed the elf back for better viewing. Such a
marvel to have such a companion – like a magnificent gem come to life.
How any dare try to flaw such a miracle is beyond how I may ever
understand.
Calloused fingers traced along a smooth forehead, settling in place
some few stray strands of golden hair, then stroking down the fair
face. Unwittingly, Gimli’s hand followed the exact path as another had
earlier; yet from this touch Legolas did not recoil, for a gesture of
pure and honest affection was always appreciated.
Aragorn watched, immensely pleased at the growing friendship between
the two unlikely candidates for such. The man had become good friends
himself with the dwarf during the time of the Fellowship, and had been
as a brother to the elf since memory served him. Legolas and I are as
close together as the Twins with each other. A few moments more
were
spent quietly observing, then, “Ahem.” Gathering Legolas’ and Gimli’s
attention, the Ranger instructed, “We should return topside ere search
parties are sent needlessly for us.” Nodding at the unlamented guard’s
body, he continued, “We will have someone sent back to clean that up,
and meanwhile inform King Theoden and also Gandalf of the treachery
that occurred. I feel confident that the last of the foulness has
indeed fled this place, but they will want to be certain.”
Assisting Legolas to stand, Aragorn kept a firm grip on the elf’s arm
as he led his group out of the dungeon. “At the upcoming feast, I will
take care to see you properly introduced to several Men who should not
too badly shake your Elven sensibilities whilst indoctrinating you into
Rohan customs and cliques.” Ignoring Legolas’ indignant glare, the
Ranger smiled at a sudden idea. “But before the feast, there is another
I would have you meet…a most unique and special Mouse.”
“A what?” As Legolas puzzled over how or why the Ranger would take
acquaintance with a particular rodent, Gimli moved up to take the elf’s
other arm firmly in hand.
The dwarf also wore a smile, though his was largely hidden within the
beard. “Aye, I know the one. However, I shall have to beg your leave in
attendance to that matter, for when we get out of here, I need to pay a
visit to the stables.”
Legolas nearly tripped over himself. “The stables? You?” The dwarf’s
aversion to the four-legged inhabitants was well known. I must be
suffering some delayed trauma from my ordeal; surely my ears did not
hear correctly.
“I need to see a man there about the crafting of a particular type of
harness.” Behind the elf’s back, Gimli and Aragorn exchanged winks but
no further information as they continued herding their confused and
curious friend back to the upper levels.
At last the door that would take them to awaiting comrades came into
view and the three beings, still arm in arm, breathed a collective sigh
of relief. Man, elf and dwarf passed through with a new spring in their
stride at leaving, at least for a time, the Darkness well behind them.
The
End
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