Gimli woke briefly when the Healer first put her hands on him. He had been stripped of his tunic, and her hands burned where they touched his cold skin. Someone was swearing in khudzul, he could hear it distant to his ears. As the elven magic took hold, and he felt the pain recede, he realized it was his own self, and he gasped.
"Le fael," he choked out, mind dizzy and fading once more. "Le fael," Le fael..."
~*~
Legolas took a deep breath, pausing outside his father's throneroom. He smoothed his hands over his braids—still his bonding braids. He was getting better, but Gimli was right. They were still a fright. That wouldn't help his case, he knew, but there was nothing for it.
"Better done quickly," said the Gimli in his mind. "And quit fretting! He dotes on you and you know it."
"Aye," Legolas said quietly. "And I hate to use it. My father deserves better."
"Legolas," Thranduil called. "Do not hover so!"
Legolas stepped into the room. His father was still draped over his throne, one leg crossed over the other. He held a glass of wine loosely in one hand, the other pressed long fingers to his forehead. Thranduil's frustration was palpable.
"Ada?" Legolas asked.
"The Valar save me from Dwarves," Thranduil said, voice dry. He drained his glass and peered at his son. It was obvious Thranduil had been drinking, and for some time.
"They are known for their stubbornness," Legolas said, and wished for his husband's silver tongue. Legolas had never developed the disposition for diplomacy. "And pride, and both are justly deserved."
Thranduil made an ungraceful sound. "It will lead to the destruction of us all, if it is not stopped."
"A greater Shadow is rising," Legolas said, and refused to look away. "If the dragon is not dealt with, it will lead to an even greater doom." If the enemy had an ally with Smaug—even a small dragon is a dragon, and Mithrandir's fear was now his own.
Thranduil's eyes glittered in the darkness. "You are young yet, my son. Though you have only seen the wrath of lesser beasts, it is still terrible. There is no greater doom left in Middle Earth ."
"You do not believe that," Legolas said, "and have not since the Spiders returned to the forest. The paths of my dreams oft took me to a darkness in the south, an ancient evil with a new face. The Shadow is growing in strength, and Smaug is too great a threat to leave be. The dwarves march at Mithrandir's prompting—"
"Oh, Mithrandir," Thranduil snapped, and stood abruptly, stalking down the stairs. "The grey wizard's fingers are all over this, I should have known. Thorin Oakenshield is too smart to attempt the mountain on his own, but dumb enough to give in when prompted. It reeks of that wizard."
"He is wise—"
"He is a troublemaker," Thranduil said. He stopped near Legolas, looking down at him. "And how have you come by this knowledge?"
Legolas stood a little taller. "Gimli told me."
"Gimli," Thranduil repeated, face smoothing. "And which is Gimli? The fat one? Angry one? Or the child they brought with them on this foolish quest?" He made a dismissive sound. "That they would endanger the life of a child so—"
"You think they have a choice?" Legolas snapped. "You know as well as I the devastation of Erebor's fall, how slow they are to recover. Gimli would not be with them if the need was not so dire!"
"You defend them," Thanduil said, mild, and Legolas fell silent. How much had he given away. "How strange, that this dwarf should spark such fire in you." Thranduil began to pace, walking around Legolas, who held himself still.
"He is passionate," Legolas said. "It is hard to not rise to meet it."
"Indeed," Thranduil drawled. "And to what end, I wonder. Still," he said, and pulled back. "He will soon be in the cells with the others, and we will have time to see just what hold he tries to place on you, my son."
Legolas glared. "None may hold me that I do not wish."
"No?" Thranduil asked quietly. "I wonder." He sipped his wine. "The healer came to see me earlier," he said. "It seems that this Gimli speaks our language, and with surprising skill for a dwarf, who have never shown love for our ways. Does that not trouble you?"
"Should it?" Legolas asked. His voice was steady, but he could feel his heart quake.
"Not anymore," Thranduil said. "It is my concern, and soon I will have my answers." He breathed in sharply and seemed to shift before Legolas's eyes. In the place of a cold king was a warm father. Thranduil raised his hand to Legolas's face, and gently touched the backs of his fingertips to Legolas's temple. "It was good to see you dance, my son. I was so worried that you would be so lost to us, that it did not matter that you moved so strangely." He smiled, but Legolas could no longer see it as kind. "You must be tired. Rest, now. Tomorrow you resume your duties in the forest."
It was what he had wanted. It was a test.
Legolas stepped back to bow, his hand crossing his chest to press at his heart. Thranduil's hand swam through the gesture in return, and turned heel and left.
Tauriel was hurrying down the hallway toward him, and she fell into step as he stalked away.
"He knows," Legolas said. Tauriel stopped short, and it took her several moments to catch up again.
"What do you mean, 'he knows'?"
"I mean 'he knows,' what else would I mean?" Legolas asked, they came to a crossroads. Left led to Legolas's rooms, right led to the archery grounds. Legolas went right.
"All of it?" Tauriel pressed "Did you tell him?"
Legolas slowed his speed. "Not in any words," he said. "None that I meant to, anyway. But he saw me dance, and he saw my care for Gimli and my speech may have been...uncautious. I have not Gimli's skill for wordplay." He stopped, and turned to Tauriel, leaning in to speak quietly. "He knows that there is a bond between Gimli and I. He may not know the full extent of that bond, not its type, but he knows it's there and he will seek to sunder it."
"Tell him," Tauriel urged. Legolas turned to leave, and she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I am being serious, Legolas. Tell him. If he knew, he would not stand in your way. He loves you."
"And I am sure Luthien's father loved her as well, but still he prevented her union to Beren. Nay," Legolas shook his head. "It will not yet help, and it will only hinder. The Dragon takes precedence. Thorin Oakenshield must get to the mountain by Durin's Day. The fate of Middle Earth depends on it. Where my father is concerned, my love life will have to wait."
Tauriel looked ready to protest, and Legolas stayed her with a hand. "Do not fret, Tauriel. My love for Gimli is strong and true, and our union was blessed by the Valar. We share a bond not even my father can break, and he cannot stop what has already passed. Yet..." he paused. "It pains me to admit, but I fear what he may do to Gimli in the blindness of his rage. Until Gimli is no longer his prisoner, my father cannot know the full truth. Do you understand?"
Tauriel narrowed her eyes at him. "I understand."
"Good," Legolas said. "Now, I am going to shoot my bow until I run out of arrows or out of anger. You may come with me if you wish." He turned and walked on, and felt Tauriel fall into step behind.
Legolas had been to the training grounds of Men, and had been bewildered by stationary targets. Animals did not stand still when hunted. Orcs certainly did not stand still in battle. Why, then, would one practice with targets that stood still?
Dwarves, at least, understood this. In the depths of Erebor, they had constructed elaborate courses that had been a joy to run, and in Aglarond, Gimli had built Legolas a run like no other.
Too, had Legolas had his run of the courses at Lorien and Rivendell, but none compared to the course Legolas had first trained on, in the Greenwood.
Several targets had been strung to trees, left to twist in the wind, and every hit target made the others spin faster. The course took the runner off the ground and into the trees, dancing along the branches and flying through the air.
Aulas, the weapons keeper, spluttered when Legolas stormed into the room. "My prince," she exclaimed. "What a surprise! Have you come to run the course?"
"I have," Legolas said, short. It was yet another example of how far gone he had been that Aulas was surprised. There was a time when he ran this course every day.
Pushing it from his mind, Legolas picked up a full quiver and bow. He missed his Galadrim bow like a lost limb, but he could find no fault with the bows of his people. Their shorter length was better for the close confines of this forest, anyway. He strapped the quiver to his hip. "And I am in no mood to tarry."
"Of course," Aulas said. "It's free now."
Legolas nodded and pulled three arrows from his quiver. "Good," he said, and took off.
It was a relief to run, to fall into the rhythm of the draw and release, the sing and twump of the arrow loosed to its target, a solid hit every time. Some countless time later, when his ire had cooled and his head leveled once more, Legolas collected his arrows and headed back. He did not return to ground, so much as touch down, alighting as if from flight.
Aulas was speaking with Tauriel, so Legolas took his borrowed equipment back to the rack. The damaged arrows went to a small basket, to be either repaired or recycled, and when Legolas turned, he saw it: the dwarven weapons, collected in a large trunk. It had to be; Legolas had never seen this trunk here before. With a quick glance to make sure Aulas was still preoccupied, Legolas crept over and peered into the trunk.
It was unlocked–who would take them, after all. Few of the elves here would see the value of dwarven weapons, and less still would think to take them. Theyall appeared to be there; several dwarven swords, Dwalin's axes, and a gracefully curved axe that Legolas recognized from Gimli's hands among them. The only weapon missing was Thorin's blade, Orcrist.
Legolas closed the trunk, thoughtfully. The weapons would be safe here, for now.
~*~
The second time, Gimli woke to the smell of food. Hearty game meat and fresh bread.
"Here," the healer said in clear Westron. Gimli was surprised. He hadn't figured this elf would have learned Westron. Though, judging by her accent, northern like Celeborn's, this Elf may not have had a choice. "Eat slowly." She handed him a bowl of venison soup and a chunk of heavy bread.
Gimli accepted the bowl with a grateful nod. "Meat?" he heard Bombur say. "There's meat in this?"
The healer nodded. "You are dwarves," she said, like she was speaking to a child—or an idiot. Gimli narrowed his eyes: it figured that the elves knew what dwarves ate and deliberately fed them differently. Bombur, however, did not notice—or, more likely, did not care about—the slight, and tore a piece of bread from his loaf. (Gimli noticed that he himself had only gotten a half.) Bombur dunked the bread in the soup, and stuffed it into his mouth, muffling a desperate noise. Overcome, the ginger dwarf started to sob, even as he continued to eat. The healer looked at him askance, and then made herself scarce. Gimli, out of courtesy, pretended not to notice and focused on his own food.
He had barely finished his soup before his eyes grew heavy once more. He slept.
~*~
In the morning, Legolas dressed once more in his simple leathers and light armor. He slung his bow across his back and his quiver at his hip. On his other hip he wore his long bone-handled knife. It felt like the first warmth of spring, new and familiar and full of promise.
Today, Legolas would not be traveling far. He would return to the glade the dwarves had invaded the night before, along with a small company of others. There, they would search for clues as to the dwarves' true motives (they would find none), and clear out whatever was left of the spider's nest.
Tauriel met him at the gate with Calen and the twins, Meludir and Merenon, three of his top guards. They all looked glad to see him. He nodded to them. "Let's go," he said, and led them off into the woods at a run.
~*~
The third time Gimli woke, it was slow, as if climbing out of a deep tunnel. Awareness lurked in the distance, like the light of the surface, and when Gimli emerged, blinking, he realized that while he was now aware, he had been awake and staring at the ceiling for some time.
It wasn't a bad ceiling, as ceilings go. It was hearty stone, though much lighter than any dwarven ceiling. He looked around the room.
The halls, like the rest of the Woodland Realm, was underground—part of a network of shallow and airy caves. It barely felt like they were underground, which, he supposed, was the point. All in all, it was a very Elvish cave, closer to Bilbos smail than a dwarven city.
It must have been night, for the room was dimly lit by only a few, scattered and flickering candles. In the half-light, Gimli could see the dancing shape of a skylight above. At full noon, this room would be dazzling.
There was no sign of the healer, and it didn't surprise Gimli. She had seemed resigned to their care, but he didn't expect her to be inclined to sit with them.
Bombur snored happily. His emotional outburst earlier must have drained him, for he seemed nowhere near waking. Bombur, and Gimli himself, were dressed in simple white tunics. A quick peek under the blanket showed simple drawstring trousers as well.
"I had not thought it possible," said a quiet, familiar, welcome, voice. "But he snores louder than you."
"I don't snore," Gimli said, grinning, and turning his head to face his husband. Legolas was no longer dressed in his festival clothes, but wore instead clothes similar to what he wore on the quest under his leathers. He had been out in the woods today.
"I see," Legolas said, humming. "Then it is as a rattle to a snake—a warning, for all to fear and stay away."
"Silly elf, not to hear a warning," Gimli agreed, nodding his head, lips pressed together to try and keep his face solemn.
"Aye," Legolas said. "And I have found, once bitten, that your venom leaves me wanting more."
Gimli rolled his eyes at that; his love was not a poet for all his propensity for poetic illusion. Still, Legolas placed his cool hand on Gimli's forehead, smoothing it back over the tangle of Gimli's hair. "How do you feel, my love?"
"I'll not lie," Gimli said, leaning into the touch. "I've felt better. But so, too, now, have I felt worse, and I trust in your elvish physic." Gimli pushed himself up to sit, and Legolas helped him shift his pillows.
"Legolas," Gimli said once settled, taking his husband's hand. "I heard tale that you were ill—driven mad by some strange malady."
Legolas smiled, but it was weary and his strain showed clearly.
"You have heard the truth," he said. "But not all, for I was mad for a while, though it seems the worst has passed. I fear I will forever bear its scars."
"But what was it?" Gimli pushed.
"Haven't you guessed?" Legolas asked, tired and unsurprised. He shook his head. "It was no one thing." He sat on the edge of Gimli's bed. Gimli shifted, and gestured between his legs. Legolas shifted over, and tilted his head back, so Gimli could address his braids while he spoke. Gimli unwound his braids, combing through the freed strands with gentle fingers. When the last braid gone, Legolas began to speak.
"I watched you die," Legolas said, his voice quiet. "I saw the life fade from your eyes and I was lost to my grief." Gimli's hands stilled in his hair, and then began to move slowly, steadily "Yet, still I could feel you in my mind. That alone kept me from Fading—but it was close, and my mind was...fragile. It made what happened next all the more difficult to bear."
Gimli tugged gently, reassuring, and Legolas continued: "The memory of elves never fades," he said. "It remains forever fresh in our minds. When I awoke here, I was often confused as to when I was: was I truly in my past and only felt that I knew the future, or was I my future self gone back to earlier days. My past often seemed no different than my present, yet I had changed.
"As I lay sick, and the present began to differ from that change, it became easier to stay in the present, to fight. Too, did I feel you getting nearer, though I did not realize that until the feast the day before last."
"Two days?" Gimli asked. "Never mind that. Go on."
Legolas smiled. "Once more, my love, I feel the sea calling for me. It is not like before, the ever-consuming tide, but close to what I imagine the Lady Galadriel feels—a strong desire to return home."
"We will," Gimli said, tying off the last braid. . "One day, we will have our home again." Smiling, Legolas leaned back and tipped his chin up for a kiss.
"When our task at hand is done," Legolas said, leaning back against Gimli's chest. Gimli's arm wrapped around Legolas's chest, his fingers running along the stitching on Legolas's tunic. "Once again, darkness threatens this land—an old evil, one we have already defeated." Legolas shook his head. "I do not understand. I have seen things in my dreams, but they make little sense."
"Something must be different this time," Gimli said. He placed a gentle kiss on Legolas's neck. "I saw, her, you know," he said, and propped his chin on Legolas's shoulder. "The Lady. I still have her favor, though to her this was our first meeting. She spoke to me of this. I proved to her my story with her gift to me."
"Yes!" Legolas said, "I have it here." He sat up and took out a velvet cloth and pulled back a corner to show Gimli the Lady's gift.
"Thank you," Gimli said, taking the gift and tucking it into his tunic. "I do not want to think about what your father would do if he had found it while I was unable to defend myself."
Legolas's face darkened. "Take it is as proof of your evil intentions, no doubt," he muttered. He stood and urged Gimli to move forward, so Legolas could sit behind him. His fingers dug through Gimli's hair to scratch at his scalp and Gimli's eyelids drooped in pleasure. With deft movement, Legolas separated out a section and twisted in the bonding braid with quick fingers. "He suspects something between us," he said as he worked. Gimli snorted at the irony. "To that end, he has set Tauriel to watch my movements. She is to ensure that I do not betray him through some magic of the dwarves."
Gimli raised an eyebrow. "And you are here?"
Legolas shrugged. "She knows the truth. I told her of you several weeks ago. She believes in your cause, and will be of great help to us." He tied off Gimli's braid, and kissed the top of Gimli's head.
"It will be sore needed," Gimli said. "Battle must be avoided, if all possible." He sighed, and turned to face Legolas. "The Lady warned about speaking too much of the future. Some events may not be altered, and I pray that this is not one of them. The Enemy grows stronger in the South, the Ring has been found, and we cannot afford the loss of war. Too much can change in sixty years to believe that the world will work itself out as it did before."
"Mayhaps our victory is one of the events that cannot be altered," Legolas said, quietly.
"Mayhaps," Gimli agreed, but neither believed it. He sighed. "If only we knew why we had returned. A new evil, perhaps, to aid Sauron?"
Legolas's eyes widened. "Nay, Gimli. Not new. Old. Old, and familiar." He squeezed Gimli's hand so tightly that Gimli had to squeeze back for fear of bruising. "Gimli, the same Enemy grows, but he is already stronger than the first time. He is more, like he was at the very last..." He trailed off, but Gimli knew. He knew.
"If we were not the only ones sent back..." he said slowly.
"We were sent back because he came back," Legolas finished.
"This is not good," Gimli said, and sighed. "We'll just have to defeat him again. We've done it before, after all."
The look Legolas gave him was so dry, Gimli longed for an ale.
Legolas sighed and stood. "I cannot stay," he said. "My father has seen fit to give me my position once more, and in the morning we hunt spiders. We will be gone for most of a fortnight, and there is much preparation to be done. If Master Baggins has freed you by the time I return, I will seek you in Laketown and the Mountain."
"I shall miss you all the more for seeing you so briefly," Gimli said, and kissed the back of Legolas's hand. "But seeing you well has eased my mind, and I will hold my new memories of you close to my heart, to warm me while you are away."
"Such pretty words," Legolas whispered, and bent over Gimli for a lingering kiss. "I will see you when I return."
"I will hold you to it," Gimli said, and then Legolas was gone. It took some time for Gimli to fall asleep, even with the comforting drone of Bombur's snores.
~*~
In the morning, an elven guard appeared at Gimli's bedside. Gimli looked up from his simple breakfast of bread, and looked the guard over.
"Time to change rooms, I see," he said. "Can I finish this, or am I eating on the move?"
The guard didn't answer, and Bombur slowed his chewing to watch. Gimli sighed. "On the move, then," he said, and stood. The stone floor was cool under his feet, but they had taken his boots somewhere he did not know. He squared his shoulders and let himself be guided forward. He ate his crust of bread as he walked, the guard a mere half-step behind him, hand on his sword.
"You can relax, lad, I'm not going to fight ye," Gimli said, brushing his hands together to wipe off the crumbs. "What would I fight you with? Dwarves are doughty, aye, but we do know to pick our battles when we can."
The guard did not so much as even twitch, and Gimli sighed.
The cells were deeper into the ground than the rest of the hold, but even they were too bright and airy to be called a proper dungeon. The cells had been carved from a natural cave and fitted with bars. An underground stream ran through the lowest level (no doubt this was the same river that fed into Long Lake.)
Most of the cells they passed were empty, and worry began to trickle into the back of Gimli's mind. Were they taking him to the rest of the Company? Was he, like Thorin, to be kept separate from the rest?
They turned a corner, heading down to a lower level, when Gimli heard the first cry.
"Gimli!" It was Nori. "Gimli, you're all right! Someone tell his Da!"
Then, the hall was filled with the voices of the dwarves as they all pressed against the bars, trying to see him.
"Aye, I'm fine," Gimli said. "I'm a dwarf, ain't I?"
"Good lad," Dwalin rumbled as he walked by.
Then, from the far end of the row, "My son! Gimli! Inudoy!"
"Da!" Gimli cried out, and ran to him, surprising the guard. His bare feet slapped against stone, and he skittered to a halt outside his father's cell. "Da!"
Glóin reached out for him, and Gimli met him there, pressing their foreheads together as best they could through the bars. Glóin had his fingers twisted in Gimli's tunic. Gimli gripped his father's arms tight.
"They wouldn't let me," Glóin sobbed. "I asked, but they wouldn't say. Oh, my boy, my son."
"I'm fine, Da," Gimli said. "Bombur too. Someone should tell Bofur."
"Aye, we will," Óin said, and Gimli looked up to smile at him.
The guard loomed, leaning close, and Gimli pulled away. "Sorry," he said, but it was clear to all that he did not mean it. "I knew my father would worry."
Something, a shadow of understanding, flittered across the elf's face. So that was it then? Family? That was their weakness.
"Move," the guard said, and Gimli wondered just how much Westron this elf could speak.
Gimli nodded, and looked over his shoulder. "I'll be fine," he said to Glóin. Glóin looked like he didn't trust Gimli's opinion of the situation, but the guard was relentless, and so Gimli found himself descending lower into the dungeons.
They met the warden at the last cell on the left, and he opened the door. Gimli walked through calmly, and turned around as they were locking the door.
"I don't suppose I could get my boots back?" he asked. The guards did not reply. "Of course not," Gimli muttered, and turned around. "Why would they."
Fíli and Kíli stood shoulder-to-shoulder, arms crossed and faces grave.
"It is time for some answers, cousin," Fíli said, and Kíli's eyes narrowed.
"Oh," Gimli said, and his shoulders slumped. "Heh. Right." He sat on the edge of the bed. Did they really expect the three of them to share this one bed? It was large enough, sure, but only just, and only if they lay half on-top of each other. "I don't suppose either of you have a pipe?"
To his surprise, Fíli had managed to hold on to his pipe, and Kíli had some leaf left in his pouch. Soon enough, Gimli was drawing in smoke, and desperately trying to find the words.
"You smoke more than you used to," Fíli said, breaking into Gimli's thoughts.
"Do I?" Gimli asked, looking over at Fíli. His cousin had sat next to him on the bed, and while he hadn't relaxed in the slightest, he did not seem to view Gimli as a threat. He pulled out his comb and gestured for Gimli to shift closer. Gimli did, fully expecting to have his hair pulled, and knew that is served him right. It was unusual for Fíli to groom him again so soon after the last time, but he knew his cousin was more focused when his hands were busy, and it gave him some measure of control when all else had been stripped from him. Even Kíli's hair was more orderly than usual. "I hadn't noticed."
"You laugh less, too," Fíli said. "But when you do laugh, it's deeper somehow. You're less angry, but I wouldn't say you're happier. You act as if there is something missing, and you're the only one who knows what it is." Fíli put his comb down, and met Gimli's eyes squarely. "And sometimes, when you look at us, you look as if you're staring at ghosts, not people."
Gimli looked away, heart hammering in his chest.
"Not to mention that thing you keep hiding in your tunic," Kíli said, sitting on the other side of Gimli. "And what's this," Gimli felt his cousin's fingers in his hair, tugging gently on his marriage braid, and he twisted away from them both, standing.
"Don't—" he bit off, and grit his teeth against any other words, breathing heavily through his teeth. "You're an archer, Kíli. You sight is better than most. You know exactly what that is, and more, you know better than to touch it."
Kíli rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Then you better start talking."
Fíli nodded. "It's been clear to us that you've been hiding something, something bigger than these dreams of yours. Kíli tells me you've taken up with an elf, with the son of Thranduil, and you come back to us with marriage braids in your hair." He stood and took Gimli by the shoulders. "You've always been smarter than you look, and true-hearted. You haven't told us for a reason, and I believe that you had good reason for that. But the time for secrets has long passed, and we both know how much you despise untruths."
"That, and you're a terrible liar," Kíli said and grinned.
Gimli snorted. "I am at that," he said, and felt a weight lift off his shoulders. "And you know me far too well. My silence on this matter has weighed heavily on my mind, and there is little I am able to tell. Still, I would tell you what I can, but," Gimli looked between them, "what I tell you now, you can tell no one, not even Thorin." Gimli shook his head. "Especially not Thorin."
Fíli and Kíli exchanged a look. "Please," Gimli said, softly. "I would not ask if the need were not dire."
"Very well," Fíli said. "But you must tell us everything. What is your connection with this elf?"
Gimli snorted. "That is both the most and least strange part of my tale. My connection to Legolas is exactly what it appears to be. He is my husband, and I his. We were wed first in elven fashion, and then went through the full pomp of a dwarvish wedding, at behest of the king, who both wanted to show his acceptance and punish me, I am sure."
Fíli and Kíli boggled. "When?" Fíli asked.
"Oh," Gimli said, wagging his head. "About sixty years from now."
Fíli's face fell. "That's not funny."
"I'm not joking," Gimli countered. He sighed. "Here we come to my greatest lie, the one from which all others spring. I have not been dreaming of the future, Fíli. I have no skill at divination, not as my Uncle does. What I have is memory and luck, for what I know I have lived through. The Valar have seen fit to send me, and with me my husband, back through the veil of time, to change the course of future events. The continued existence of the dragon is more than just the bane of dwarves; it is a threat to the future of Middle Earth, for the Shadow that grows in the south is the Enemy of old, and we fear that he, too, has returned from the future and all our plans have been revealed to him, so he is stronger both in might and in knowledge."
Gimli sat, feeling the full weight of his years even in his young frame. "There is a war coming, a total war for the fate of all free peoples, the likes of which have not been seen since the Last Alliance. Nowhere will be spared. Not the north. Not the realms of the elves. Not even the Shire. Already, we are engaged in the first moves of this war, and the first battle will come this year, after Durin's Day, when the orcs of the Misty Mountains join forces with the orcs of Gundabad and lay siege to Erebor, and the forces of men, elves, and dwarves. It will be known as the Battle of Five Armies, and the cost will be likened to Azanulbizar."
Kíli frowned at him. "Not for nothing cousin, but how hard did you hit your head?" He looked to Fíli, but Fíli was pale.
"The king," he said, his voice raspy. "You mentioned married at behest of the king. It was not Thorin, was it?"
Gimli sighed, at last looking away. "It was a Thorin," he said. "Son of Dain."
"Uncle never sees the throne, does he?" Fíli continued. "Nor does Kíli or I? Do we?" Gimli did not answer, and Fíli's voice broke as he thundered, "Do we?!"
"Thorin, yes," Gimli said, voice snapping. "For all of a week. The curse on the line of Durin takes him, and he falls under the spell of dragon gold." He softened, and held a hand out to Fíli. "But he shakes free, in the end. He died with his own mind."
Fíli let out a small, broken sound, and Kíli gripped him tight, wrapping his arms around Fíli's shoulders as Fíli let himself fall to the floor.
"That is why I am here," Gimli said, weary. "That is why your mother sent me. I am to see you live through what is to come. So I have vowed, and so I will do. Besides," he bared his teeth, and his voice pulsed with purpose. "No dwarf has ever turned wraith. No dwarf has ever bowed to the will of another master. He had to create dragons to deal with our might, and we will prove to him that the dragons are no match for us. The Shadow will quake before the Line of Durin, and we will send him back to the abyss from whence he came."
The brothers' eyes glittered when they looked at him.
"Aye," Kíli said.
"Aye," Fíli agreed. "Uncle will live."
"You all will live," Gimli said, sure. "True, the Enemy knows our strategy. But what he does not know, is that we know he knows, and that gives us an advantage."
Fíli pulled back from Kíli, his hand firm around his brother's neck. "That's all well and good, but Thorin has put his royal boot in his royal mouth, and pissed off the Elvenking."
Kíli grinned. "He told him to ishkh khakfe andu null.
Fíli snorted, "So, we're going to be here for a while."
Gimli sighed. "Aye, that sounds like him. Still, we are not without friends," he said.
"Aye," Kíli said. "There's your elvish sweetheart." He looked towards the door of the cell. "Where is he? I can't imagine you would marry someone who would leave you imprisoned."
"You forget," Gimli said. "Legolas has not been himself these past few months. His influence has waned. His father has seen fit to return him to his old position, and so my husband is fighting spiders in the forest. To fight his father would mean a return to his old state, just as imprisoned as we, and we will need him free. No, for now, I am here with the rest of you, but Legolas is not the only friend here."
"Bilbo," Fíli said. "You mean Bilbo."
"Aye," Gimli said. "He followed the Company here, unseen, by means that I hesitate to speak of. The Lady Galadriel advised against speaking too much of the future to come. Already, I feel as if I have told you too much, but my untruths have weighed too much upon my mind. The last time, Bilbo managed the escape of the Company. We must have faith that he will do so again."
Kíli frowned. "You seem very willing to leave things up to chance. Why not keep us from the dungeon in the first place?"
"Do you not remember the state he was in?" Fíli asked. "He could barely walk straight, let alone keep us from this place."
"Thank you, for that," Gimli grumbled. "But that is only part of it." He sighed. "Some events must happen; they are fixed in time, and no matter what I do they will occur. When I have tried to stop them in the past, they have only changed for the worst."
"Then how do you know that our deaths can be changed?" Fíli asked.
Gimli met his look. "I have faith that the universe would not be so cruel."
"I think we are both overlooking the most important thing," Kíli said. He plopped down next to Gimli and slung an arm around his shoulders. "Our little Gimmer's has married a prince. He is moving up in the world."
"Aye, a prince," he said, snorting. "He's about as princely as you lot." Kíli grinned, but Fíli cuffed the back of Gimli's head.
"An elven prince. A prince of Mirkwood," Fíli said. "What were you thinking?"
Gimli sighed. "I have oft asked myself the same question. But, my answer is this: I was thinking that I love him, and the world is too uncertain to let love pass by. I do not care that he is an elf, nor does he care that I am a dwarf. More, I do not love him despite his race, but because of it, for if he was not an elf he would not be Legolas, as if I were not a dwarf I would not be Gimli."
Fíli shook his head. "I cannot help but wonder, how did your father take it? How did his?"
"Not well, not at first," Gimli said. "Da yelled until he was redder than my hair, and grumbled for a good long while. In the end it was your mother that calmed him to see reason; Legolas is not just my love, he is my One, and to turn away Legolas would be to turn away me." The brothers humor faded a bit with the realization of just how deep Legolas was embedded in Gimli's heart. "He was the first to call Legolas 'son,' and the wild thing was moved to near tears. His own father had grown cold at the news, but he came to the wedding in the end, for Legolas did not survive the war unscathed, and he would rather spend what time he could with his son before he sailed West." Gimli shrugged. "We spent a lot of time in Minas Tirith with Aragorn at the beginning, and took advantage of fond-making absence."
Fíli grinned. "You always were wise, when your temper didn't get the best of you."
Gimli smiled.
"So that explains the woods," Kíli said. "And your braid, but that doesn't explain the thing in your tunic. What is it?"
"Ah!" Gimli said. He looked at the door, and stood, stepping out of the direct line of sight. "That is a miracle of beauty. A gift from the Lady Galadriel at our first meeting." He pulled it from his tunic, and pulled back the sides. It shone brightly in the dim cell, and the brothers gathered close. "I was part of a company on a secret quest, where I had met Legolas, in fact. We were barred from traveling over the Misty Mountains, so we made to go under them, through Khazad-dum. A colony from Erebor had made its home there some years before, through of late messages had stopped. We found a tomb, and more, Durin's Bane woken from it's long sleep. We barely escaped, and not all of us did. Tired and weary, we sought shelter in the woods of Lorien. There, when the Lord of that land cursed the dwarves, she spoke against him in front of her people, and spoke to me in kuhdzul. Though her accent was ancient, she spoke the right words. Words she learned when the world was young, and Durin ruled the Mountain.
"Our days in the wood were golden. We bathed our wounds, fed our spirits. There, did Legolas and I begin our friendship that would lead to our greater bond. The elves there replenished our supplies, and when it came time to leave, to each of the company the Lady gave a gift. A new bow for Legolas, a box of seeds for Sam, a light for Frodo. But me...me she asked."
Gimli looked down at the gift in his hand. "I told her I needed no gift, for it was enough to have seen her beauty." Kíli nudged Fíli.
"What have you done with our Gimli?" Kíli teased.
"Ah, but Kíli," Fíli said, shaking his head. "Our Gimli has always had the heart of a poet. Or have you forgotten the way he talks himself out of trouble all the time."
"You get yourself into that trouble," Gimli said. "It's not my fault you can't get yourself out of it."
"Too true," Kíli said. "But finish your story! What did she say to that?"
Gimli grinned. "She laughed. It is the most beautiful, most joyous sound that I had yet heard. She named me Gimli Silver-tongue and Elf Friend. When I declined a gift again, she asked me a wish--to name a desire. I said that I desired a single strand of her hair, to cherish for it's reminder of its giver. She, in her generosity, gave me three." Gimli frowned. "The elves always go strange at that, but none will tell why. I must remember to ask again. She may tell me."
Fíli and Kíli shared a look, but they both shrugged at him. "Elves are strange," Fíli said.
"Not as strange as they first appear, I assure you," Gimli said. "Either way, when our quest was over and our war won, I returned to Erebor. There, in the Great Forges, I set the hair in crystal, and mounted the crystal in true-silver. The Lady's Gift I call it. It has been an heirloom of my house, and passed to my heir when I...well." Gimli stopped himself. His still could not speak of his time in Aman. It was too precious to try to put into words for one who was not there. Maybe he would try, one day. Not today.
"Gimli Elf-Friend," Fíli said, and shook his head. "Thorin'll have a fit."
"I will handle Thorin Oakenshield," said a wry voice from the door. Gimli and the brothers looked quickly, hiding the gift from view, but there was no one at the gate they could see.
"Bilbo?" Gimli asked, recognizing what was happening first.
Bilbo appeared before their eyes with surprising suddenness, and Gimli saw a flash of gold in his hand before he managed to hide it in his pocket. He felt a sense of dread in his pocket. If the Dark Lord had returned, was the One Ring still sleeping? He doubted it. The Nine would be hunting for it, but where were they?
A sudden thought left him cold. They better not have to fight a dragon and the Nine. If so, then they might already be too late.
"Of course it's me," Bilbo said. "Who else? I see you told them, Gimli."
"Aye," Gimli said over Fíli and Kíli's noises of protest.
"You told Bilbo first?"
"That stings, cousin. It really stings."
"Enough," Gimli grumbled. "Bilbo had to know. He knows why."
Bilbo flushed and shifted where he stood. "Yes, well." He cleared his throat. "The good news is that I know where almost everyone is. The bad news, is that Thorin is the one still missing."
"Isn't he in the cell next to Balin?" Kíli asked.
Bilbo shook his head. "Not anymore. I overheard one of the guards. They moved him somewhere deeper, where he couldn't plot with the rest of you."
"That isn't good," Fíli said.
"I'll find him," Bilbo said. "Hobbits are excellent finders."
Gimli snorted at that. "Finding trouble, you mean."
Bilbo tapped his finger to his nose, and looked over his shoulder. "The guard is making rounds. I'll be back when I can." He ducked down, and Gimli was sure he put the ring on as soon as he was out of sight. A moment later, a guard walked by, but gave no sign that he saw Bilbo.
Gimli sincerely hoped that whatever Gandalf was doing proved worth it; they would need the wizard, and soon.
Kíli laid down on the bed, arms folded beneath his head. "Well, Gimmers. You tell quite the tale. Indeed, it is strange, but no stranger that the tales found in our histories, nor so helpless as fourteen dwarves and a hobbit against a dragon. Whichever version of you is here, I am glad you are. With the three of us together, nothing will stand in our way." He yawned, and was soon fast asleep.
Fíli did not go down so easily. He sat for some time, fingers twisting and retwisting a lock of his hair. "Just answer me this, cousin," he said at length, quiet as to not disturb his brother, "and I will not ask again. Was it the dragon?"
"No." Gimli said, his voice heavy. "No, it was not the dragon."
Fíli nodded. "Then if it comes down to it, save my brother. Save Kíli."
Gimli looked up at Fíli, fierce as fire. "I don't intend to lose either of you."
"I am expected to follow Thorin," Fíli said, voice firm. "Mother knows this. Losing Kíli–that would break her."
Gimli met his eyes. "Choosing one of you over the other...I am not sure that is a promise I can keep, but I will promise that I will do all in my power to bring your brother through this safe."
"Then that will have to be enough," Fíli said.