Bearded

Chapter 20

When Legolas came to himself, he was lying on a rough stone bench and no one was near. He felt bruised and disarrayed. He could feel the weight of the heavy stone above him as he felt he was deeper under the mountain than he had ever been before. He was shaking and as chilled as a stone himself, but his heart burned with fear for Gimli.

For a while Legolas listened in the dark, then the gloom settled still more heavily upon him as the silence revealed itself to be empty. He lay back on the hard bench and tried to see in the dark, but it was like looking into a pool of ink. He closed his eyes once more.

He could not bring himself to think about what might be happening with Gimli. His funeral? Was he being returned to the stone? Would he be buried with his double-headed axe; had they let him retain the gift from the Lady? He allowed himself a tiny dose of hope. Surely he would know for certain if his husband, joined as they were in spirit, no longer drew breath on Arda. Did he still live?

He would have whispered Gimli's Name to see if a shade responded, but he could not see well enough to determine whether or not he was alone, and he would not betray the trust that had been given him by not safeguarding the secret of the Name.

A tray of hard dwarf bread sat on a tray on the floor, presumably slid underneath by a guard and beside it lay a tumbler, the water spilled in a puddle around it.

He fell once more into an uneasy sleep, simply to avoid being awake in the dark, pressed by the stone.

Legolas heard a sound then sat up groggily. Looking at the bars he could see movement.

"Hullo there!" he called with a shaky voice. "Hullo there! What news of Gimli?"

Silence answered him.

He called again. "Who is that who moves among the stones?"

After a while as his head cleared a little he saw a faint light and he thought he could see a heavyset dwarf standing by the bars. He rubbed his eyes. It was one of the whitebeards who had been sitting with them at the high table at the welcome feast and presumably he had been in the king's chamber when Legolas had been taken in but his memories of that time were a blur. He only recognised him by the ostentatious gold robe he wore but did not remember his name.

"Gimli?" He croaked.

"He is in a poor state but still lives. He has not yet woken. You did not succeed in killing him."

"Thank Aulë," Legolas whispered.

"I suppose you're happy that it's not murder they will be charging you with but don't get too comfortable. He could still die. And besides, for the enchantment, you will still end up being put to the axe."

The news that Gimli yet lived emboldened him. When he asked how exactly he was supposed to have enchanted Gimli the whitebeard told him to hold his tongue and said, "Who can know the ways of the Elves? Gimli left the mountain, his home, with you, hale and hearty. Now he clings to life."

"It's my fault," Legolas whispered miserably, "it is my fault."

The whitebeard smiled grimly. "I just came down to see the Elvenking's misbegotten son behind bars, and gawk at him the way he gawked at our people. I'll be taking my leave. Not at your service."

Legolas was aching in his bones for more news of Gimli and the deep darkness pressed down on him. He longed for the feel of fresh air about him. He tried to sleep.

The midday meal had been taken to the prisoners. Legolas heard the guards tramping away down the passages taking the torchlight with them and leaving everything in blackness once more. Legolas sat in darkness, and utter silence fell about him. He ate nothing. He could not count the passing of time; he scarcely dared to move, for the whisper of his movement echoed and rustled in the cell. If he dozed, he woke to still darkness and to silence going on unbroken.

Legolas fell into reverie. He did not relive the stories or songs or bright days of yore. He had a sense that danger was ever present. In reverie he walked under the stars and thought of Gimli. Even within the woodland realm, there was none with whom he had such a profound connection as Gimli. Even in this matter of visiting the homeland of the other they were of one accord, though they had not been blind to the potential danger. Both had been raised with a profound sense of duty and service to their people. Their unhesitating offer of their arms to support the ringbearer had been simply a manifestation of this vein of duty which ran through them both. In the matter of their love, duty had its place also.

They could have avoided this situation. They could have stayed away from each other. They could have come together only furtively, secretly. True, with one look, other Elves knew the state of Legolas' heart. But they would know only that he was wed, not that his bond was with a Dwarf.

They could have decided for the long term to pretend to be nothing to each other and present themselves as shield brothers at most. But this would be a disservice to their people apart from a disservice to their own hearts. The lies and misinformation needed to be challenged. Neither Gimli nor Legolas were such innocent rosebuds as to think that everything would change. But still it was important to plant that seed in their peoples, so that a frame of reference would exist for such friendships. Their people needed to see that a Dwarf and an Elf could walk side by side without hatred, both as individuals and as a people. They had agreed to hide the fact of their marriage, at King Thorin's request, but to display their friendship was a duty they could not shirk. But now Gimli may have already returned to his forefathers and he was a woodland Elf trapped under stone.