The Son of Glóin - by Nieriel Raina
Author's Note: Some parts of this story may seem very familiar. That is because some of the dialogue is taken directly from Fellowship of the Ring as well as some description of events though I have endeavored to put the latter in my own words. Dialogue quoted directly has been placed between asterisks and belongs to JRR Tolkien and not myself. The rest is completely my fault.
oOoOo
"Legolas shall be for the Elves, and Gimli son of Glóin for the Dwarves."
~ Elrond, The Ring Goes South, The Fellowship of the Ring
The Son of Glóin
Prologue
"I am not so sure this is a good idea." Glóin watched Gimli's head snap up and piercing brown eyes burned into his own.
"Why not?" Those eyes were usually a warm brown, so like his wife's, but now they bore into him sharp as a knife.
Glóin sighed. His brows lowered as he studied his offspring. "You know why." He watched the blush that stole over his only child's cheeks – a blush that could give away their secret if Gimli were not more careful.
Gimli's head lowered and the packing continued. "No one will know," came the gruff reply.
Glóin sighed once more and tucked his thumbs into his gold belt. His Gimli could be very stubborn. "Tharkûn knows."
The wizard had known from the first time he set eyes on Gimli many years ago, though he had said nothing. But Glóin had not missed the look of surprise on Gandalf's face when Elrond had announced those who would accompany Frodo. The wizard had turned and given him such a look that Glóin had nearly stepped forward to forbid Gimli's going.
The auburn head snapped up again, and those brown eyes burned into Glóin again, regarding him with fire. "And with Tharkûn along, you have nothing to fear for me! Besides," Gimli again resumed packing. "I can take care of myself. As your son, did you not raise me to do so?"
Glóin tightened his hands into fists, but could not deny the veiled accusation. He had indeed raised Gimli to be the best of sons: self sufficient, trained in the art of war as well as stone craft. Yet Glóin could not stop himself from showing the protective nature of a father. He had managed to raise more than a few eyebrows when he had forbidden Gimli from joining him on the Quest to the Lonely Mountain on grounds that his son had been too young for such a journey. Such a decree had nearly exposed his secret to their whole clan. That circumstance had caused him to begin allowing Gimli the freedom due a grown son, and was why he had allowed Gimli to accompany him here to Rivendell.
But this quest to Mordor with the Ringbearer? Glóin swallowed hard. How could he logically deny Gimli the honor of representing their race? As his son, Gimli was in the prime of life for a dwarf, and he held the rank such a position required. To forbid it would be to acknowledge his deception. Gimli was correct. His son had always been more interested in weaponry than jewels, and was the best ax wielder Glóin had seen in many a year. HA! Why, Gimli could easily best that lanky young son of the Elvenking!
Glóin gave up the fight. As a father, he had done his job well. Gimli was the best son a father could hope for. It was too late to regret, too late to wish he had instead had a daughter. "You will take all precautions to prevent the others from learning the truth." The look he received caused a chill to run down his spine.
"Well, father, it would not do to have that princeling catching me with my pants around my ankles, now would it?" Gimli snorted, those brown eyes now crinkling in laughter. "Though I dare say, I shall have much amusement at catching every one of those males in a similar situation!"
"Gimli!" Horror shot through him as he once again had to face that his son was no innocent. There was little Gimli had not seen or heard, though to date, she had managed to keep her gender a secret.
"I jest, father."
Glóin grunted and left her to her packing. He feared he would greatly regret allowing her to go, but could see no way of denying it, not without losing the respect of all his kin and the King Under the Mountain's as well. Regardless, he had lost his daughter the day she had been born, and not for the first time, Glóin regretted it.
Chapter One
It was with much excitement that Gimli hefted her pack and set out with her eight companions. While the seriousness of their mission weighed heavily on them all, for the first time, she was being shown the honor due to her as a son of Glóin!
Her lips twitched upwards and she knew her eyes shone with her exhilaration at finally getting her due. She marched along, listening to the hobbits chat quietly between themselves, and watching the Men with interest. She had never encountered Men such as these before – this Boromir of Gondor and Aragorn Arathorn's son. Strange they were, very tall, and very serious in demeanor…and nothing like the flighty creature walking at the back of their company, humming to himself or softly singing.
Gimli snorted and turned her eyes back to the front. The way was difficult and one needed to watch where one walked; still, the elf's presence amused her. He had said nothing to her in the two month stay in Rivendell. Except for the outburst between her father and him during the Council, she had hardly seen the elf speak to any, even the other Elves in Rivendell. He was a strange creature, even for an elf of Mirkwood, and she had known several. He often just sat, usually somewhere high up, and either sang to himself, worked at increasing his cache of arrows, or just drew up a knee to his chest and watched.
What was it that so fascinated him about the various races in Rivendell that he had sat at the fringes and only watched, never really a part of the goings on but never far from it either? Legolas had been introduced as Thranduil's son, a prince of Mirkwood! Frivolous creatures, full of whimsy, they enjoyed feasting and dancing and making merry under the stars. Those she had met in her travels with Glóin had been outspoken, merry and gay. But this one – she glanced back at him – he kept to himself and was quiet. Perhaps he was shy?
The elf's gaze turned towards her and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Gimli found her gaze captured by stunning silver eyes that shone like the stars themselves! By Mahal! She had never seen such eyes! How had she not noticed them before? Then to her horror, he winked, and then his gaze flitted away, leaving her feeling enraged, confused and bereft all at once.
Gimli determined then and there that the elf was dangerous, and she resolved to keep him at a distance. Yet…she could not stop herself from taking small peeks in his direction, and she cursed herself for being a fool. She had seen his smirks; the elf was laughing at her!
She had anticipated several difficulties while she had prepared for the journey. Being the only female in a company of nine, and her gender unbeknownst to the others at that, created other…complications. It was nothing she had not dealt with before among her own kind, though some things proved easier among the Dwarves due to certain cultural distinctions.
Relieving oneself, for instance, was a very private affair for a dwarf. Having had little exposure to other races, at least in regards to such matters as that, she was unprepared when the Man of Gondor simply stopped by a tree and began fiddling with his trousers. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was doing, and she stared in absolute horror.
"What do you think you are doing?" she rumbled at the man, staring in horror at the wet spot growing larger at the base of the tree.
Boromir's brows rose as he looked over his shoulder at her. "I would think that was obvious, my good dwarf, or do Dwarves not need to relieve themselves?"
It was Gandalf who answered. "Dwarves are very private about such things, Boromir. Even among their own gender." The wizard had looked down at her with knowing eyes. "It is considered an insult to expose oneself to another or to relieve oneself in the presence of others." He glanced around at the rest of the group, who all stared at Gimli with varied expressions of amusement or curiosity.
Her face burned.
"We are a company of mixed races and cultures. We must work to respect our differences."
There were nods of agreement from Boromir and Aragorn, and to Gimli's relief, smiles of understanding from Frodo and Sam. Merry still looked a bit thunderstruck, while Pippin… Gimli feared Pippin was about to make some embarrassing statement. She was not disappointed.
"How then do they…er…" Pippin's voice trailed off as his cheeks turned pink. "Never mind..."
She stared at the hobbit, thinking he had surely not meant what she thought he had meant, when a light voice behind her merrily added, "Are Dwarves not known to live in dark holes? Perhaps they have no need for light in order to—"
"Legolas!" Gandalf's voice boomed over the company, and the elf's bright laughter followed. Gimli bristled with anger and indignation at the elf's insinuations. Shy? No, he was a churlish, dog-hearted miscreant!
Gimli turned and glared at him. "Why you pointy-eared, foul-mouthed—"
"Gimli." Gandalf's tone was a warning. "That is enough." Gimli snapped her mouth closed, but continued to glare at the elf. Gandalf continued. "As I was saying, with the differences in culture among our company, we must work to show each other respect."
The wizard's eyes turned to hold the elf with a pointed look. "Bathing, for instance…" Gimli's eyes widened as the elf's pale cheeks bloomed with two blotches of color. "Not all races believe in communal bathing. In this, Elves and Dwarves are much alike. When the opportunity arises, privacy must be respected." Gandalf's eyes moved over each of them, drawing agreement from all. "Now, we have lingered here long enough. Let us away, for we have many more leagues to travel before the sun rises."
Seething, Gimli joined the line and marched along, but after a short time, she realized most of her complications had been resolved during their short break. She had no need to explain anything. Tharkûn had indeed done his part to preserve her identity.
oOoOo
For a fortnight, they traveled. And during that time, Gimli found herself constantly bristling. The elf seemed to be doing his best to irritate her with his words. Always his eyes sparkled with mischief as he made some statement or other about the Dwarves. It was rather unsettling, especially when she realized he never once made such comments about any of the others in their company.
The elf kept his distance from the others, always walking in the back, often just behind Gimli, though why, she was at a loss to understand. At mealtimes, he took his food and sought some high ground or tree in which to partake of it. When they rested, he often sat alone. He watched and listened intently to the tales they told to pass the time, but rarely did he join in them, except to make some comment that left Gimli incensed and muttering under her breath.
What need drove him to spark her ire, she did not understand, and so she withdrew more, walking closer to the hobbits. To her dismay, the elf followed, and Gimli began to walk with one hand resting on the haft of her axe, her eyes boring into him and fingers twitching to teach him some manners.
By the time they reached Hollin, Gimli had given up on trying to keep the elf away. His comments continued, always with merrily dancing eyes and she found to her great discomfort that she enjoyed the teasing on some level. Curse him for being so fair! Beauty such as his should not be paired with such a daring personality. Finding it impossible to hold him at a distance — the blasted elf seemed always at her heels! — she simply ignored him, or tried to. The dratted elf was hard to ignore with those wicked smiles and sparkling eyes.
She found it easier to distract herself once she laid eyes upon the mountain peaks in the distance. Oh, how she had longed to see them again! It had been many years since that first and only glimpse she had gotten of them while traveling from the Blue Mountains to the Lonely Mountain. To be so close, and to know they might get closer still stirred her with excitement. Her heart yearned to see Khazad-dum, the ancient home of her ancestors. It was possible Balin might yet dwell there, and they might find temporary refuge and comfort with him.
Instead, Gandalf chose to take the Redhorn Pass. While Gimli felt some disappointment at not going through the mines, her heart trembled at the thought of seeing the waters of Kheled-zâram – the Mirrormere. And she marveled at the elf's ramblings about the Elves of Hollin. *"Only I hear the stones lament them…"* he had said. Did Elves truly hear the stones as the Dwarves did? Gimli felt a certain amount of respect for him at saying this…right up until he grinned at her and winked. Blasted elf!
The grueling walk up Caradhras quickly stole what joy she had found in the thought of seeing Kheled-zâram. She should be enjoying at least the sight of the mountains as they pushed on towards the pass, but her eyes continually strayed to where the elf jaunted easily up the incline. Not only was the elf fair to look upon, the fey creature could walk atop the snow! No trudging for him. Her temper, sparked by this slight against nature, grew fouler along with the weather. Angry and cold, she grumbled and muttered under her breath, wishing they could leave the cruel Caradhras far behind.
The storm built the further they walked, until they were finally forced to stop. Gandalf, Aragorn and Boromir debated what they should do next, but Gimli remained silent, stomping her feet in an effort to warm herself and eyeing the hobbits and their bootless feet. The Man of Gondor spoke truly. The hobbits would not fare well if they continued.
Gandalf agreed a fire could be lit, and Gimli stepped forward to light one, but the elf beat her to it. She watched, a smug smile on her face as he tried and failed several times to light the wet wood. Finally, he stood and with chagrin admitted, "It is no use. The wood will not light."
"Get out of the way," she grumbled, pushing past him. She dropped to her knees and pulled out her tinder box fully prepared to prove the superiority of the Dwarves. Many minutes later she had to concede the wood was too wet for elf or dwarf to light. She frowned at the kindling that refused to ignite for her just as it had for the elf, then dropped her flint back into her tinderbox and stood. It was no use; the failing had not been Legolas's or her fault, but that of the weather.
The chill wind howled about them, driving snow deep into her beard and stinging her eyes and face. She stepped back, frowning and waiting for some cutting remark from the elf, but none came. Gandalf relented and used his staff to make a small blaze. Gimli huddled beside the hobbits next to the weak fire and glared out at the swirling snow, wondering what other challenges they might face on this Quest. To date, Caradhras was the worst of it, but she feared there was much worse to come.
When, to her surprise, the elf came over and sat beside her, she scooted away and up against the cliff wall. To her dismay, he followed and sat so close his leg brushed against hers. The strange emotions that touch sparked in her only further fouled her mood. She inched away until he was no longer brushing against her.
"It is chill," he said, though he did not look the least bit cold. He was simply making an observation.
"Of course it is chill, you fool elf!" she snapped. "Did you expect the warmth of the sun in all this swirling snow and ice?" His lips twitched, and she harrumphed and turned her head away but did not move. His body heat spread to her from his closeness, and though she grumbled, she let it warm her.
Come morning, the path could no longer be seen and the clouds overhead were still heavy with snow. Gimli looked up at the mountain and shook her head. "Caradhras has not forgiven us," she said. *"He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better."*
But that was easier said than done. The path they had traveled up the mountain had drifted closed and retreat seemed all but impossible. They would have to find some way to break through the drifts that lay deeper than the hobbits' heads in some places. To Gimli's dismay the elf easily climbed up the drifts and looked down at them.
*"If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,"* he said with a slight smile. The blasted elf did not even look cold! Here they were stuck on a mountainside with the threat of more snow dumping on them at any moment and yet there he pranced, merry as could be.
To Gimli's satisfaction, Gandalf answered as grumpily as she felt. *"If Elves could fly over the mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us! But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow."*
The two Men decided they would dig a path through the drifts, and Gimli settled back against the wall while they began shoveling the snow with their hands. She would be of little use in such an endeavor. Dwarves were not made for pushing through snow; the drifts came to even over her head in some places. She watched them a moment, then a light voice drew her attention.
*"The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow — an elf!"* Legolas sprang forward after the Men, calling over his shoulder to the wizard who glared at him. *"Farewell! I go to find the Sun!"* He darted across the drifts as if running over firm ground, passed the men with a merry wave and disappeared around a bend.
"Elves are strange, aren't they?" Pippin asked, settling down beside Gimli. "I mean, I'd never before met an elf until we left the Shire, and since then, I've met many, and they are all a bit odd in their own way." The hobbit tugged his cloak more firmly around him. "But Legolas…well, he seems a bit odder than the rest. Do you think they are all like that in Mirkwood?"
"Bah!" Gimli replied, shaking her head. "Wood-elves are indeed flighty creatures, but that one is the worst I've met. Elves are silly creatures!"
For all her outward gruffness, Gimli wrestled within herself between offense and amusement at the elf's antics. Gandalf still glared in the direction Legolas had gone, and Gimli snorted and shook her head. After the hobbits, Legolas probably roused the wizard's ire more than any of them. If not for being a target herself of the elf's flighty moods, she might find it more amusing. Dratted creature! Here she sat, freezing her arse off on a mountain determined to bury them in snow, and she could not stop her thoughts from straying to a flighty elf who pranced about on top of the snowfall as if he were running and playing in a meadow of new grass!
By the time the elf and Men returned with the news the snow drifts only extended a short distance, Gimli was in a truly foul mood and angry with her lack of self-control over her thoughts about the elf. What was wrong with her? She should feel nothing for him, yet… She shook her head and refused to acknowledge the strange stirrings in her heart. They were unnatural and could prove to expose her if she entertained them. Better to let the anger cover any hint of the growing fondness she felt.
As they began their descent, she raised her fist and shook it at the mountain. *"Enough, enough! We are departing as quickly as we may!"*
The elf's laughter sounded above her. From her spot down in the trench which Aragorn and Boromir had dug, Gimli hid a smile, then hardened her features and threw up an insult.
The flight from Caradhras brought more challenges. There were Saruman's crebain to dodge and again they had to decide which path to tread. When Khazad-dum was mentioned, Gimli felt her heart leap. She longed to go that route, but remained silent as the others debated amongst themselves. Even if they chose to walk that path, there would be many obstacles to overcome, not the least of which would be finding the closed doors – the entrance through Khazad-dum.
When Gandalf defended making the trek, going so far as to suggest that there was still a chance that Dwarves dwelt in their ancient home, Gimli finally added her voice to the debate. *"I will tread the path with you, Gandalf!"* she said. *"I will go and look on the halls of Durin, whatever may wait there — if you can find the doors that are shut."*
*"Good, Gimli!" said Gandalf. "You encourage me. We will seek the hidden doors together. And we will come through. In the ruins of the Dwarves, a dwarf's head will be less easy to bewilder than Elves or Men or Hobbits. Yet it will not be the first time that I have been to Moria. I sought there long for Thráin son of Thrór after he was lost. I passed through, and I came out again alive!"*
She smiled at Gandalf's praise, even as the others spoke against the path through Moria. Yet she agreed to follow the wizard there and excitement burned through her inner being. She might shortly be reunited with her cousin Balin. How she had missed him! She refused to entertain any thoughts of finding anything other than the best. Nothing could dampen her joy now, she thought, even as Boromir claimed he would only go if all agreed.
*"I do not wish to go to Moria," said Legolas.* For once his eyes did not sparkle, nor did he tease, wink or smile. He looked troubled, and Gimli found a great part of her enthusiasm dissipated with his words.
Then the wolves began to howl.
Chapter Two
Night was upon them. The howls grew nearer, and the Company climbed the small hill under which they had earlier sought shelter. A fire was built inside a broken ring of boulders amid a knot of gnarled trees at the crest. Gandalf set the watch, giving Aragorn and Legolas the first, and Gimli and Boromir the second. Gandalf and Pippin would take the next, leaving Frodo, Sam and Merry the last watch of the night. Gimli nodded her approval. It was unlikely Frodo would need to actually take a turn at watch, and all could see the Ringbearer needed rest more than any of them.
Gimli settled beside the fire to get what rest she could before being called to her watch. The pony snorted, shifting nervously and trembling as the howls drew closer and then faded back. She could see shining eyes just beyond the circle of stones, and rested her hand upon her axe. She would get no sleep this night.
She surged to her feet at a howl from so close by that her beard bristled. The dark shape of a large wolf stood in a gap in the circle of stones. She drew her axe.
Gandalf stood also and strode towards it, raising his staff. *"Listen Hound of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring."*
The wolf took no heed of the words. It snarled and leapt toward the hobbits. Gimli moved to push them back, but before she took one step, the sharp twang of a bow from beside her sounded and a moment later the wolf fell to the ground, an elvish arrow shot through its throat.
Gimli glanced with astonishment to where the elf stood. His skill was impressive! She took in a sharp breath as her eyes beheld him now. The playful and teasing elf from Caradhras had disappeared and in his place now stood a fierce and fey warrior. Legolas had another arrow already nocked to the string and his bow drawn. His eyes surveyed the darkness beyond the firelight, and Gimli thought any creature foolish enough to move would find themselves shot through.
She also searched beyond the circle, knowing hers and Legolas's eyes were best suited to seeing through the blackness of night. Aragorn and Gandalf strode forward, swords drawn, but the howls had faded away.
The wolves were gone — at least for the present.
oOoOo
Dawn neared, the moon setting low in the sky when the next attack came. No warning was given as the wargs charged in from every side.
*"Fling fuel on the fire!" cried Gandalf to the hobbits. "Draw your blades and stand back to back!"*
The fire blazed up, and Gimli hefted her axe, knowing this time her blade would bite into flesh. She felt someone move to cover her from behind, and the smell of summer and beech trees reached her nostrils. Immediately she knew who stood at her back. She set her legs with a lethal smile and swung her axe with confidence. Legolas's bow sang behind her as her axe hewed through dark fur and bone. They proved a formidable pair in a fight.
What happened next, Gimli did not know for certain. Light bright as a flash of lightning erupted as a voice like thunder roared. Her axe blade glittered in the flare of light then the trees began to burn. Ash and sparks rained down on them as the smoke wafted over their company. The hobbits cried out then all that could be heard was the crackle of the flames. When the fire burned down, not a trace of their foes could be found, though the Men searched for the bodies of the fallen wolves.
Gimli glanced with a new respect at where Gandalf stood tall, his eyes piercing and nearly glowing with an inner fire. A wizard indeed!
Sam's voice could be heard where he huddled next to Pippin in the center of the ring. *"What did I tell you, Mr. Pippin? Wolves won't get him. That was an eye-opener, and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!"*
Alarmed, Gimli reached up to feel her own head only to stop when a snort reached her ears. She turned and glared at the elf who watched with amused eyes. "Though it glows red like the fire, it has managed not to be consumed, Master Dwarf." His lips twitched as she narrowed her gaze at him but found she could not summon any of her typical disgust. Instead she wanted to smile back at him. They had won the battle!
Unwilling to give him that satisfaction, she settled for helping to collect his arrows. They appeared to be untouched by the flame or damaged from their flight — all except one; the toe of her boot hit the single metal point, all that remained of the arrow that had pierced the first wolf. Stooping, she picked it up and turned it in her fingers, then slipped it into her pocket. She dared not question why she had done so, but continued collecting arrows and returned the handful she had to the elf.
He smiled, and to her disgruntlement, winked before placing them in his quiver. Gimli turned sharply, the haft of her axe conveniently smacking him in the backside. The elf started and glanced around with both surprise and curiosity. Gimli hid a grin, "My apologies, Master Elf," she murmured, moving to join the others.
oOoOo
They set out in search of the doors of Khazad-dum as soon as the full light of morning had come and they had eaten a quick meal. Gimli felt a great eagerness to see for herself the Halls of Durin and to discover what had prevented word from Balin in all the years since last they had heard from him. She walked towards the front, often at Gandalf's side during march. Her desire to reach Khazad-dum drove her on, and she even pressed ahead from time to time.
The sun was reaching its zenith when she called back to the others and pointed to the right towards a deep, narrow channel. Gandalf confirmed the near-dry streambed had indeed once held the rushing waters of the Gate-stream. The walk from there was long and wearisome; the hobbits limped as the day progressed, and even Aragorn and Boromir looked relieved during their short breaks. Gandalf leaned on his staff, his brow furrowed as his eyes searched out their route.
Only Gimli and the elf seemed to be unaffected by the long walk. Her growing excitement at reaching the ancient home of her people kept her marching along, proving that Dwarves were more resilient and less easily tired than many other races. She glanced back at the elf. Legolas too walked with ease, though how he managed in those light shoes, Gimli could not fathom. Flimsy, silly things made of only a soft deer hide. He would do better in a sturdy pair of dwarven-made boots. Why, he could even have tiny green leaves tooled into the leather to match the ones embroidered on his tunic!
She frowned when the elf briefly met her eyes, then glanced away without any of the typical smiles, jests or winks. He had been quieter than usual and somewhat morose since they had started out. It was as if some weight troubled him, though Gimli could not think what that might be. What business was it of hers if the elf was troubled over some petty grievance? He was probably sulking for her thumping him with the haft of her axe. Her thoughts (she refused to acknowledge it as concern) turned from the elf back to their journey.
It was near to sunset when Gimli, Gandalf and Frodo climbed the stone stairs and looked down at a still black expanse of water and beyond, vast cliffs jutted up with no fissure or crack in the forbidding stone. Gimli's heart leapt within her. They were nearly there!
They were forced to find another path up the slopes to the side of the lake. The pony could not possibly climb the stairs. The last golden rays of sunlight were flickering in the west and the first twinkle of stars could be seen when they reached the lakeshore. They made their way around the northernmost corner and across a slimy, shallow creek. From there Gandalf pressed them hard until they reached the remains of a holly forest. The tangled old thickets were long bereft of life, but close to the cliff remained two towering holly trees, throwing dark shadows about their feet.
*"Well, here we are at last!" said Gandalf. "Here the Elven-way from Hollin ended. Holly was the token of the people of that land, and they planted it here to mark the end of their domain; for the West-door was made chiefly for their use in their traffic with the Lords of Moria. Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different race, even between Dwarves and Elves."*
*"It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned,"* said Gimli, bristling with indignation. She had heard many tales of how those ties had been severed and in none of them had her people been at fault.
*"I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves," said Legolas,* looking down his nose at her.
Gimli blinked. In all their travels, with all the insults thrown, never once had the elf sounded so haughty or arrogant. He laughed and teased, winked and grinned, but this? This reaction disturbed her. Something was troubling the prince-ling, but what?
*"I have heard both," said Gandalf, "and I will not give judgement now. But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends, and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand!"*
Gandalf turned to speak with the others, leaving Gimli and Legolas staring at one another. The elf looked as startled as she felt. Friends? Could they ever become anything remotely akin to friends? 'Unlikely,' Gimli thought. Still…the Elf looked thoughtful.
He offered no words of reconciliation, but glanced instead to the stone walls. "We should seek the doors," he said.
Gimli nodded and stepped up to them, tapping with the haft of her axe and listening for the change in tone that would signal a chamber or tunnel behind the stone wall. She knew well that what appeared to be solid stone might well hide a hidden door. There were many such in Erebor, and Glóin knew them all and had taught her well the art of locating them so their secrets might not be lost.
She moved down the wall, tapping and listening, then glanced back to see what the elf was doing. She started when she saw his lithe body pressed up against the stone, his ear to the wall and his eyes closed as if listening. By Mahal! Could he communicate with the stone itself? She remembered his declaration in Hollin: *"Only I hear the stones lament them…"*She had heard the Elves could speak to the trees, and had never before this quest considered they might have an affinity with stone as well.
Glancing up at the towering cliffs, Gimli felt humbled. Behind these walls lay Khazad-dum, the dwarven realm of old; but the gates she searched for had been made by not just Dwarves — Elves had worked alongside them, skilled in stonework and the shaping of gems. Perhaps there had been reason for a friendship between their peoples if they shared a love for creating things. And while Dwarves did not spend much time in the forests of the world, they had a great appreciation for nature's beauty, carving it into their pillars and walls.
*"Well, here we are and all ready," said Merry, "but where are the Doors? I can't see any sign of them."*
*"Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut," Gimli called to him. "They are invisible, and their own masters cannot find them or open them if their secret is forgotten."*
*"But this door was not made to be a secret known only to Dwarves," Gandalf said, turning to look at them. "Unless things are altogether changed, eyes that know what to look for may discover the signs."*
'Riddles,' thought Gimli. 'Wizards always speak in those blasted riddles!' But then Gandalf did something, muttering some words Gimli could not quite hear. Then he stepped back.
*"Look!" he said. "Can you see anything now?"*
Lo and behold, Gimli's eyes perceived in the moonlight upon the stone faint, silvery lines, slowly growing to reveal their design. An arch of elvish characters ran across the top and below glowed an anvil and a hammer, surmounted by a crown with seven stars; and beneath these were two trees, each bearing crescent moons and in the center, a single star with many rays.
Gimli gawked at what she was seeing. *"There are the emblems of Durin!"* she cried, her excitement mounting as she realized they had found the Doors.
*"And there is the Tree of the High Elves!"* Legolas gasped in wonder, his eyes shining. He glanced at her, and their eyes met. Unable to help herself, Gimli grinned at him, and to her surprise, Legolas grinned back.
oOoOo
*"In the deep places of the world!" Boromir complained. "And thither we are going against my wish. Who will lead us now in this deadly dark?"*
Gimli glared at the Man. She had never liked him, but now more than ever her dislike was plain. How could any person not be thrilled to just set foot in the halls of Durin? The silence and darkness worried her, however. They should have found some trace of Balin and his people, but there was no light or smell of forges nor sounds of a working mine.
*"I will," Gandalf stepped forward, the tip of his staff beginning to glow with a faint light. "And Gimli shall walk with me. Follow my staff!"*
Unquestioning, Gimli fell in with the wizard and soon found herself being reminded of all the Company had recently endured. "Not all embrace the dark as do the Dwarves, Gimli," Gandalf whispered as they climbed a wide stairway. "All this Company has endured in the past day alone would make most quail and shake, but these brave souls continue on. Do not despise Boromir for his dislike of the dark."
Gimli nodded, and continued up the steps in thoughtful contemplation. It was so easy for her to forget the hardships they had suffered once they entered the mines. This was the home of her forefathers, and she felt excitement and joy to be walking here. But the others were still shaken by their encounter with the monster in the lake, and it had been unsettling to have the doors pulled down behind them. If one were not used to deep places, she supposed it might feel something like being sealed in a tomb. She vowed to herself to be more understanding of the differences in her companions. Not all could have the constitution of a dwarf, after all.
They took a brief rest at the top of the long stairway, and then continued on in single file. When she glanced back, she could just make out Aragorn at the back of their company, silent and thoughtful and looking uneasy — not a look she was used to seeing on that austere Man. Something about the scenario niggled at her mind. Aragorn brought up the rear from time to time, but usually he was accompanied by…
Legolas. The elf walked in the middle of the file and glanced about nervously, his eyes bright in the darkness. A slight glow emanating from his skin. By Mahal! She had noted the elf stood out in the dark, but had not realized he actually glowed! She had assumed his pale skin reflected the moon and starlight, but now in the dark of Khazad-dum, she could clearly see the faint light he gave off. Her fingers reached into her pocket to touch the arrowhead she had placed there.
"Gimli?" Gandalf's voice drew her attention back to the task at hand. Gandalf sought her help in choosing the best path through the mines, but having never been here before, she was of little aid to him. Khazad-dum exceeded all her expectations and they had been great. She felt awe beyond her comprehension as she stared about her as they walked; and she worried over Balin's fate. No, she was not of much help; she suspected the wizard sought only to occupy her enough to prevent any arguments between her and the elf.
Oddly, she felt no desire to argue or bicker. She felt a strange concern and uneasiness within her when it came to Legolas. Something was not quite right with him. He remained in the midst of their companions, almost constantly humming or singing to himself, though his voice was so low Gimli could not make out the words. Only when Aragorn sought to assure the hobbits of Gandalf's worthiness as a guide through such a place and implored them not to fear that she realized that was what she sensed in the elf. Legolas was afraid.
Chapter Three
The elf's fear had proved to be justified, Gimli thought as she walked down a silvery path between the trees of Lothlórien. Legolas had sensed what perhaps Gandalf had known: that evil lay sleeping deep in the mines, waiting for someone foolish enough to venture within the darkened halls. How her heart ached as she remembered the glories of Khazad-dum lost to such darkness. The discovery of Balin's tomb had brought a grief so great she had felt compelled to hide her face, lest the others see her tears. dwarf-men did not shed tears, but she could not have stopped them from falling if she had wished. Balin had been more than kin; he had been a good friend, nearly a brother to her.
Even now Gimli might be in that small room if not for Legolas. They had all fought valiantly, but when the time had come to flee, Gimli had found herself paralyzed, staring at Balin's tomb and not able to bring herself to leave him. A strong hand had found hers and dragged her from the room. It had not let go in their flight, not until Gandalf had called for her to walk ahead with him. The elf had released her then, but Gimli had felt a chill tightening her chest as that warm grip was withdrawn.
Gimli's steps faltered to a halt and she leaned back against one of the magnificent mallorn trees, shining silver in the moonlight. Oh, how the thought of their final flight through Moria brought such remorse and grief to her heart! Evil had been waiting for them as they ran for the bridge of Khazad-dum. If only she had known what her people had awakened, she might have spoken much earlier in their journey and urged Gandalf to take the Gap of Rohan. Her silence and secret longing to see the deep places of the Dwarves had removed her voice and helped to lead them there. She was not foolish enough to take the blame for Gandalf's death onto herself alone, but if she had spoken, perhaps Tharkûn might have reconsidered their path.
She would never know now. It was too late. Tharkûn, the grey wizard, was dead.
Gimli sank to the ground, her back slipping against the trunk of the great tree until she sat at its base. She pulled her knees up and leaned her head against them as the grief washed over her in waves. She knew she most likely had an elven escort somewhere in the trees overhead, watching her; the Elves of Lothlórien had proven their distrust of the Dwarves when they had insisted she be blindfolded in order to enter the wood, but she no longer cared who knew of her grief. She let the tears fall.
The tiniest of thuds sounded beside her, but Gimli did not look up. She did not care what the Elves of this realm thought of her. Even now the sound of lament rang through the trees. They could grieve in song if they wished. For once, she would grieve in the manner most fit for her.
"Gimli."
She knew that light voice. Once it might have irritated her that he would come at such a time, but not now. His soft whisper was close enough that his breath stirred a few loose strands of her hair. Then a hand settled on her opposite shoulder, urging her closer to a warm body stooped beside her. She found herself tucked up against his shoulder and for some reason did not care that he knew that she cried. She wept against him, letting her grief soak into his tunic, even as Legolas's tears fell, adding to those on her cheeks.
When their tears were spent, they sat side by side, their backs to the tree. They did not speak of what had just passed, but instead shared memories of Gandalf from their lives. Gimli could not say when it had happened; perhaps it had been outside the Gates of Moria when Gandalf had told them to be friends, or perhaps it had begun even earlier with all the teasing and winking and playful banter exchanged between them. When she looked at Legolas now, she no longer saw just the elf: he had become dear to her, a true friend.
"And then Mithrandir reached out and knocked me on the head with his staff! I will not say I did not deserve it!" Legolas laughed. "My father would agree I did indeed, and I learned never to touch a wizard's bag of pipeweed."
"You're a strange creature," Gimli said, her lips twitching with amusement.
"But you like me anyway." Legolas grinned at her and winked. Before she could say another word, he had leapt to his feet and up into the trees, his silvery laughter echoing back. Gimli stood and chuckling to herself, made her way back to the rest of her companions. Yes, she liked him anyway.
oOoOo
How long they stayed in Lothlórien, Gimli was uncertain. The trees often blocked the stars and even the moon from sight, filtering the evening lights to a silvery glow on the forest floor. She was not overly interested in knowing how much time had passed since their arrival. They had needed the rest and the time to accept their losses. Gimli found herself most days trailing the blasted elf through the trees, listening to him talk. By Mahal, had she ever thought of Legolas as shy? Or quiet?
She snorted to herself as she walked, for once alone, down a golden path lit by the afternoon sun. The light was reminiscent of the Lady's hair, all sparkly and gold with a hint of silver. Never had Gimli seen such beauty as when she looked upon the Lady of the Light. She had marveled like a fool when confronted by the elf-woman and perhaps that had saved her from having her secrets revealed. While Galadriel had questioned and tempted in her mind, the lady did not seem to have discovered Gimli was not what she seemed.
With a piece of toweling draped over one arm and her pack hanging over her shoulder, Gimli was headed to a secluded pool to bathe. Aragorn had announced they would set out once more on their Quest come morning, and Gimli would take the opportunity for one more bath before they left. The woods of Lothlórien had several hot springs within it, making it pleasant to bathe even in the coolness of winter, though finding one secluded enough to bathe alone…
A slight splash from ahead warned her that the pool she had planned to use was probably already occupied. She smirked to herself and drew closer, unable to squelch her curiosity as to who was bathing in the pool. The lack of chatter could only mean it was not the hobbits. The Men were not as talkative when bathing. She had caught them at it several times. They washed and redressed quickly, wasting no time in conversation or play. Gimli had never come upon Legolas, however, though he obviously had taken a bath since arriving in the Golden wood.
Being as quiet as she could manage, she paused behind a large tree and peered cautiously around it. The pool looked deserted. Steam rose from its surface in the cool air. She itched to remove her restrictive garments and sink into the warm water. She was about to step out from behind the tree when something surged up from under the surface. Startled, Gimli dropped her towel, and then could only gape at the sight.
The elf stood in the pool up to his waist, water streaming from his hair and down his body, the droplets glistening on his eyelashes and face before dripping down to trail over the pale, hairless expanse of his chest. Like finely chiseled marble, he stood there with his head thrown back and arms raised to the westering sun. 'Exquisite!' Gimli wished she could immortalize the moment in stone, so beautiful he was.
She realized she had stepped from behind the tree to stare about the time Legolas opened his eyes and met her appreciative gaze. Heat flushed her cheeks with warmth, and she turned away, horrified to have been caught gawking. She was a daughter of Mahal! Not some slinking, giggling elf-maid!
"Forgive me. I didn't realize anyone was here," she grumbled, stooping to retrieve her towel and keeping her back turned to the naked elf. He did not answer her, but she heard the sound of him moving to the shore and resisted the impulse to glance over her shoulder to get the full view. Her heart pounded as she waited for some scathing remark, an embarrassed plea for her to leave or even some jest, but the only sound that greeted her was the sound of him hastily dressing…then silence.
She waited, unsure as to whether he had fled and equally uncertain as to how her blunder would affect their new friendship. Gandalf had made it clear that Elves held a certain modicum of modesty as did Dwarves when it came to certain personal issues. She sincerely hoped she had not inadvertently returned them to the awkwardness that had previously surrounded them on their journey.
Several minutes passed, and then something moved behind her. She started to turn, then froze as the smell of summer and beeches drifted to her. Whatever his response, she would soon find out. She was surprised when instead of lashing out (definitely what she would have done had circumstances been reversed), he raised a hand to her shoulder.
"If you wish it, I will stand guard so that you might bathe in peace, Gimli. You have my word I will not disturb your privacy."
The words were softly spoken with such a genuine sound of friendship in them, Gimli had to blink and swallow. He was not going to say a word about her lack of decorum, anymore than he had commented on her tears that first night in Lothlórien. The gesture touched her, but could she trust him to watch the path so she could bathe? If he wished to feign all was well in an effort to allow himself turnabout of embarrassment, her secret would be revealed. That she could not risk, and yet, if someone else stumbled upon her as she had done while he bathed, would she not also be found out? Having Legolas watch for her would be ideal but only if she could trust him.
His head bent to rest beside hers, and she became aware then of how closely he stood. His breath brushed her cheek and ear. "You can trust me," he whispered.
"Perhaps," she murmured, still uncertain.
Both his hands came up to rest on either of her shoulders, his head dipped further until his lips nearly touched the sensitive skin of her ear. "You can trust me," he whispered again, then continued in hardly more than a soft breath, "I know what you are."
Gimli's breath stilled in her chest as a chill ran down her spine. It felt as if a stone had been dropped on her chest. She was found out! He knew! Somehow he knew. Curse it all! Curse it to the deepest pits of Mordor!
His hands tightened slightly on her shoulders as he straightened. "I have heard it said that Dwarves highly prize their women, never letting them walk alone above the tunnels and halls of their kin. Is this true?"
"I am Glóin's son," she returned, shocked to hear the wobble in her voice.
He ignored her. "I believe I have heard Dwarves value their women over gems and even mithril. Daughters are protected at all costs."
"I am Glóin's son!"
He sighed and leaned forward, dipping his head to her ear once more. "Elves also place great value on their women. From them comes new life. They are to be respected and honored…and protected."
She stiffened at the implication in his words. "I need no protection! I am Glóin's son!"
His hands fell away. "Yes, I know, son of Glóin. I have watched you fight valiantly. You surprised me. At first, I was greatly amused by your presence. How well you present yourself. But you have more than proved your worth. You have my highest regard and my everlasting friendship if you will accept it." Then the world tipped as his lips pressed to her temple. "I will watch the path. Go and bathe."
He stepped around her and walked towards the path. Gimli watched him go, knowing she was trembling from all that he had said. "I am Glóin's son!" she called to his back.
His head turned slowly to look over his shoulder. "If ever I had any doubts, son of Glóin, they dissipated the moment I caught you watching me bathe." Then he winked, his lips quirking into a smug grin.
Gimli took her bath and returned alongside the elf to the others. Nothing was said of what had passed between them that day. They continued their journey, Gimli and Legolas often side by side in either deep conversation or playful banter, drawing curious glances from the hobbits and the Men.
It was Pippin who finally voiced what the others were thinking their first night camping alongside the Anduin. "Are you friends now then?" the hobbit asked, glancing between the two of them. Legolas sat in the low branches of a tree, singing softly to himself, one foot dangling down in Gimli's face where she sat beneath him at the tree's base.
"A dwarf and an elf be friends?" Gimli swatted the annoying foot away, then looked up at her ever present companion with a grin. "Whoever heard of such a thing!" Legolas smirked as he gazed back with a wink.
Pippin looked between the two of them, his brows drawing together in a frown, then his eyes widened and his face reddened. "Never mind," he mumbled.
Epilogue
Glóin was unsure how to receive his 'son' upon her return from the War. Oh, he was proud of her, for certain. She had proved herself most valiantly, and he had heard many tales of her deeds. But something had changed. She was still Gimli, for the most part, but…
His eyes strayed to the elf seated beside her in the great hall. Glóin had found it more than a little disconcerting when Gimli had returned with the elf alongside her, but had welcomed Thranduil's son as graciously as he could. He would not have it said that the Dwarves had poor hospitality! He watched the two closely and found himself shaking his head at the odd sort of friendship that had grown between them. He would never have thought this possible while in Rivendell. Even now he would not have believed it if he were not seeing it with his own eyes.
The elf's eyes twinkled merrily at some jest Gimli made, and he grinned at her. Glóin's beard bristled when the grin was followed by a quick wink from the elf. How his fingers itched for the haft of his axe! But he did not wear one while in the Mountain. His father's heart protested to the strange behavior of the elf, but he had given up the right long ago to show such protectiveness.
Gimli threw her head back with a loud guffaw at something Thranduil's son said, then pounded him on the back, drawing a frown and a biting remark from the elf. Glóin relaxed a bit. Perhaps the elf was just a bit silly. After all, were not wood-elves merry and a bit childish at times? His reaction was only based on his own knowledge of Gimli's secret. He would not respond so if Gimli's gender were other than what it was, and the elf could not possibly know.
Yet as Glóin watched during the rest of the welcome feast; the odd friendship continued to trouble him. There were looks shared between the two that nearly had him rising to his feet with a protest, only to bite his tongue as he reminded himself he overreacted. It was simply the bond formed from fighting back to back over long months that he saw, nothing more.
Though he worked to convince himself of this, when Gimli rose to lead Legolas to the guest chambers, Glóin found himself following at a distance. The easy camaraderie between the elf and Gimli continued as they walked, but a niggling doubt kept Glóin hiding in the darkened corridors as he shadowed his 'son' and her companion.
Their steps halted, and Gimli gestured to a door. "This is the chamber assigned to you, Legolas; but if you would rather, I can show you back to the entrance. There are many trees in which you might rather find refuge for the night."
It surprised Glóin that Gimli would make such an offer. She loved the Mountain and boasted greatly of the welcome any visitor would find in their halls. Would the elf would shun their hospitality?
"I know how you love those silly trees," she continued with a shrug, and to Glóin's astonishment, appeared uncomfortable, glancing down at her toes and not meeting the elf's gaze. She had not acted this way with the elf before. "It would not offend me if you preferred to sleep under the stars," she murmured.
"Dear Gimli." A slow smile turned the elf's lips, and he stepped closer. Glóin's eyes narrowed on him. "One might think you worry for me."
"Bah!" she grumbled, but did not look up.
"You honor me, sonof Glóin, but I shall be fine sleeping here." Legolas's smile faded. "Your halls are not like those of Moria; the dark will not assail me, for there is no evil to trouble me here."
Glóin could only stare. Had he truly heard the slight inflection in the elf's voice when he had said the word 'son'? Was it possible that the elf knew? His eyes nearly bugged from his head as the elf tipped Gimli's chin up with one finger in her beard and placed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Sleep well, elvellon," he whispered, then turned and slipped through the door to the chamber.
"Good night, Legolas," Gimli whispered. She stood there with a small smile that had Glóin's beard bristling and his hair standing on end. He marched out of the shadows, ignoring her stunned expression at his sudden appearance, and grabbed her by the arm.
"Da!" Her eyes were wide. "I did not know you were there."
He harrumphed. "Obviously." He marched her towards her chambers, planning a new series of locks to install on her door.
"But Da! It's not what you think!"
He harrumphed, and walked faster.
end
Tharkún – The name the Dwarves gave to Gandalf.