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This is adult material. If you are not of legal age to read adult material, bugger off. |
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MODERN EARTH SERIES 51 White Night
Gimli huffed along in a near galloping gait behind the gurney that carried Legolas into the white hallways of the great Mercy Hospital. Blue gowns and green, flashing lights and white angels with clipboards. The fleet footed staff with the precious cargo wheeled into trauma one and didn’t bother to close doors. One machine after another was maneuvered into place. Pale screens glowed blue and the skull outline glared white. A tall, soft-eyed man pointed at the screen. He murmured to a nurse and she scurried out of the room. The soft-eyed doctor rubbed his chin and twitched a finger at Quenton. Gimli was hot on the paramedic's heels. The dwarf spared only a glance toward the icy features of the elf. Gimli caught his breath. Ben was holding Legolas’ wrist. He shook his head and felt around the elf’s throat. "What's going to happen, gentlemen," Gimli asked in a low, insistent whisper. The doctor snagged a wheeled stool. He sat down, eye-level with the dwarf. "The fracture is bad," he said. "If he had a dwarf’s bone density, he would be laughing about now. But, elves…" Then the doctor shook his head. "What do you propose, sir?" Gimli asked. "All we can do is operate," the doctor said, his voice richly accented. "There are risks. Have you contacted next of kin?" "I am his … kin." The soft-eyed doctor tilted his head and thick, dark eyebrows raised for a second. "I see," he said, smiling slowly. Then he explained patiently, "You must fill out a few forms at the front desk, and then wait downstairs. I’ll be down later to fill you in on the procedure." Gimli tugged at his beard and shook his head. Quenton placed a calming hand on his shoulder. The doctor said, "Take a moment now with him. Ben and Quenton will see he gets safely upstairs." Gimli didn't hesitate. He took his friend's hand in his. He stroked the long forearm. The hospital staff arrived to take the elf upstairs. Gimli was patiently pushed aside. Just then, Ben turned and waved his hand. "Doc?" "Yes, Ben?" "Don't forget this guy," he said, pointing to Gimli, "He needs a once over too. Don’t let him get away." Quenton nodded and said, "Ben, you go help take the patient upstairs. I’ll stay here to assist Dr. Kovac." The doctor sighed. "Paperwork can wait, I suppose." Quenton patted the exam table and motioned for the dwarf jump up and make himself comfortable. Gimli backed away at first. Then he stopped. "Oh, I’ll tell ye now. Only two cracked ribs, here," Gimli mumbled touching his right side. "T’will be all right." "Off with the shirt then," the doctor said. "I agree, you are probably fine but you wouldn’t want me to get into trouble, would you?" Quenton moved to block the doorway. Gimli rolled his eyes and surrendered his shirt. "If you’re good," the doctor coaxed. "I’ll take you upstairs to the operating room. Quenton can sit with you in the observation room." Quenton winked and Gimli broke out a fine grin. "Do ye’re worst then," Gimli said. "I can bear it."
Gimli agreed to compromise with his care-givers when they recommended an over-night stay in a room not far from intensive care. By midnight, the elf was out of surgery but he had not yet awakened. Elves, a pretty young nurse told Gimli, were not subject to human illness. Injury, though, was another matter. The surgeons had removed several sharp bone fragments and a lot of clotted blood from where the bullet had fractured the elf’s skull. "When do the doctors think he’ll awaken," Gimli asked once again. The nurse said, "I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Greenleaf is not out of the woods quite yet." "I assume not," Gimli snorted, "since he’s lived in forests all his life. He’s probably talking to trees right now." The nurse wrinkled her brow, and then smiled shyly. Tactfully, she changed the subject and asked the dwarf how he was feeling. Her soft gaze and a gentle hand attempting to lift the ridiculous hospital gown made the dwarf nearly blush. "I must look, and it won’t hurt," she said, insisting on checking the tape on his ribs. "If ye’ must," Gimli muttered, averting his eyes. "Seems fine," she said, patting down his clothing. "Now, take these and get into bed." She waited, watching him swallowed two large red pills. Within a short time and despite great effort, Gimli could no longer keep his eyes open. He fell into a deep and dreamless slumber. That morning, the same young nurse woke him and asked him for specimens, giving him the indelicate accouterments necessary before he used the bathroom. He grimaced as he placed them into her care. In return, she gave him the news that there was no change yet in the elf’s condition. When she returned with his breakfast cart, she told him that a youngster was asking about him and the elf too. Gimli was pleased to hear that she’d located Eorand and arranged for the two of them to spend an hour in the visiting lounge with Samantha Gamgee at ten o’clock. During their pleasant chat, Samantha said that all the hobbits were concerned about Legolas. Even Lieutenant Davis had called to check on his condition. Then, Ms. Gamgee returned to business and produced a few papers for Gimli to sign. He was to be Eorand’s legal guardian, jointly with Legolas if, no, when the elf recovered. Gimli nodded his head. Eorand sat in silence, bearing his grief and suffering like a warrior of the Rohirrim. It was clear that he missed his mother. However, he wept no more. Old Took was making the arrangements for the Farewell, Samantha confided to Gimli. They would gather at the hospital chapel in a day or two. Old Took hoped that Legolas would be well enough to attend. Everyone from their apartment complex had been invited. Gimli thanked Samantha and asked if she needed to access his sizable fortune. She didn’t, but his foreman Mr. Stratton had called to report on the current job. It was near completion. Gimli promised to call his foreman that afternoon. After Ms. Gamgee left and Eorand was wheeled back to his own room, Gimli walked down to intensive care and looked through the glass at the frozen features of his lover. A plastic tube was taped against his mouth and a respirator insured that he breathed. Monitors blinked in colored lights measuring the faint life within him. Gimli pressed his hand to the glass. It was cool. Then the dwarf tied his robe more securely, walked out into the hospital's garden and stood under a tree. The day was crisp and the wind was blowing. Gimli thought of the trees in the park, and how Legolas had awakened them. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, the dwarf touched the rough bark of this tree and whispered his lover’s name. Almost at once, the leaves seemed to rustle an echo of the name. Gimli patted the tree and sat down, his back against the solid old trunk. The dwarf’s mind wandered into other far away woods. He and the elf had visited many, Greenwood the Great being the one most changed by the defeat of the Dark Lord. The wind gusted and dry leaves swirled. Gimli’s musings circled back to the Park dwarves and the remnants of the Nine. They were out there, and there was no one watching.
Dr. Kovac stopped in to check on Gimli about one fifteen in the afternoon. The doctor was going back to the ER later, he said, but he wanted to see his unusual patient before he was discharged. "I’m not goin’ home without my friend," Gimli said firmly. "He may be here a long time, Mr. Gloinson," the doctor said softly. "Some people remain comatose for years." Gimli’s look of shock agitated the tall, kindly doctor. He quickly crouched to eye-level with the dwarf. "I’ve upset you. I’m sorry," he said. "No," Gimli said. "You have been kind and honest with me. I bear no grudge." "I lost my wife and child during fighting in my country," Kovac said. "I still grieve for them." "My deepest sympathies, sir," Gimli replied, his voice roughened by emotion. "And my sincere thanks for what you've done already." "Then, allow me to aid you once more. I will accompany you to see your friend, and get you past the lion at the gate." "Thank you, doctor," Gimli said softly. "How can I repay you?" "Call me Luka," the doctor said. "My first name is Luka." The unlikely pair slowly walked down the long white hospital corridor. Dr. Luka Kovak nodded at the sharp-eyed nurse at her station. She raised her eyebrow but did not stop them. Then Luka whispered to Gimli, "Please, keep hope in your heart. Sometimes, a familiar voice can call the sleeper back." The doctor opened the door to the ICU and helped Gimli into a sterile gown. It was procedure and the dwarf didn’t complain. He blinked his vision clear as he touched Legolas’ frosty hair, his waxen cheeks. The doctor observed the patient a moment and then frantically checked the machines, a look of horror on his features. "The eyes stare," Kovak muttered, frowning. "Why is the heart monitor registering a beat?" "He is in waking sleep," Gimli said. "Elves walk upon the ancient paths of the deep forests and rest wide-eyed. It takes getting used to, I can assure you." "Call to him then," Luka whispered. "Friend," Gimli called. "Mellon Legolas Lindirorn*, I beseech you. Return to me from the glades of your folk. See me at your side, among the mallorn leaves again." There was no response in the elf’s features. However, the doctor detected a slight change in the heart rate. "Look," Luka said pointing to the monitor. "It’s faster. Call to him again." "Legolas," Gimli said louder. "Legolas, awake." At that precise moment, there was a tap on the window glass. The Lion was up and wagging her finger at them. She motioned for them to come out, but Dr. Kovac shook his head. He ordered her to enter. "Get me a cardiac needle. He might need some help coming around." "What’s your intention?" Gimli asked as the nurse hurried away. "Nothing," Luka said grinning. "I had to get her occupied." Then he pointed at the monitors. "Did you see the change? There’s a lot more of activity here. Try calling again." By the time the nurse arrived with her tray of instruments, Legolas was blinking and clawing at the tube in this mouth. Dr. Kovac slipped one big hand under the elf’s head and expertly eased the tube free with the other. "Take slow breaths," Luka advised his patient. "Calmly and slowly. Yes, that’s it. Your throat will be sore, but that’s normal. We are happy to see you with us again." Legolas coughed and his features paled again. He squinted his eyes shut. Dr. Kovac’s big hands cradled the elf’s head, preventing too much movement. "Breath slowly," the doctor said again. "Don’t try to talk. Here, squeeze your friend’s hand. Once for yes, twice for no, understood?" "He pressed my hand once, Doctor," Gimli exclaimed. "Good. Now he needs to remain quiet. They’ll run a cat scan a little later, I think. If it’s clear, he’ll be moved to a private room for tonight and you can stay with him. How does that sound?" "It’s fine news, doctor and Legolas agrees," Gimli reported, grinning and not taking the effort to wipe away tears of gladness. "Thank you, Luka, from both of us." Lindirorn means "One who sings to trees."
"Tell me, Gimli, please," Legolas rasped into the darkness. "Did he take Narya?" "No, it’s safe," Gimli said, pushing gently on the elf’s chest. "Lie down and I’ll tell you what happened." Legolas reclined petulantly at first. The clock read eleven PM. The halls were quiet except for the muffled steps of nurses in their soft shoes. His mind more at ease about the ring, Legolas yawned, drugs getting the better of his system at last. Gimli climbed up onto the edge of the bed. He took hold of the elf’s long, icy fingers in his warm, wide hand. "Well," Gimli whispered, lips close to leaf-shaped ear. "Do you remember the great swing of your sword, before the blow meant to sever my head?" "Yes," Legolas replied in a hoarse whisper, followed quickly by a smug smile and faintly glimmering eyes. "Well, you lopped off the upstart Dark Lord’s hand. You sent it, and the new ring of power, into the fish pond. Then, the vile heir of Sauron dropped his sword and clutched his bleeding stump to his chest. He only just managed to get into his car." "Oh?" "It was his driver who shot you. I knocked ye’ off your feet. Gimli paused and cleared his throat. He went on, "For better or for worse, Legolas, I’m to blame for your wound." "I live, Gimli," Legolas replied, squeezing the rough hand in his smooth one. "So, I think you saved my life, Friend." "Two paramedics arrived with the police. They saved you. I won’t go into what they had to do during the flight here. You’ve probably guessed already." "Ah, yes." (There was a pause.) Legolas said slowly, swallowing with some difficulty, "My throat is not the only passage that’s sore." "I tried to stop the young man," Gimli exclaimed. "Oh?" murmured Legolas, smiling and patting the dwarf's hand. "Did they take the ring then?" "No, of course not. Just after ye’ fell, I found Brandybuck near at hand. He is now the Ringbearer." "Good. A wise choice, that." (Another pause and a yawn.) "And, how faired the rest, Gimli? All well and sound?" "Ye’ don’t know, do ye’?" Gimli replied, his voice dropping low and near breaking. "Lady Mirandwyn has died. Eorand was with her in her last moments. He takes it hard. However, the lad is stern, so like his father." Legolas sighed and breathed quietly some moments. Then he turned carefully on his pillow. He blinked, and his eyes failed to focus. Gimli could see the elf’s mind slowly forming one last question. "What shall become of him, Gimli?" "We are his guardians now. Old Took saw to everything." Legolas nodded. Then, he covered a yawn with his free hand. With the other, he pulled the dwarf closer. "Kiss me, Gimli," he murmured. "Glad I am that you are nigh."
55 Investigations
Dr. Luca Kovac signed out his patients and reminded Legolas that if he experienced any dizziness, he was to have Mr. Gloinson drive him to the hospital immediately. Legolas thanked him and promised to follow orders. The elf smiled and Dr. Kovac escorted them to a waiting taxi. They met the old couple on the front walk when they arrived at their home. Gimli gave them the bad news about Mirandwyn, explaining that she’d been in the park with Eorand and they’d been attacked by hoodlums. Assuring the older couple, Legolas informed them that the police were near at hand. The particular culprits had been shot and killed. The old man shook his head and his wife nestled under his arm. "Well, may you both enjoy Coronation Day," the man said. "King Aragorn brought peace. May we all live in peaceful days too." "Same to both of you," Gimli said. "May the blessings of peace be upon your home." Once inside, Gimli checked the place. Legolas decided to shower. Some minutes later, Gimli began preparing their homecoming. He started the fire in the fireplace. He spread a thick blanket on the hardwood floor and another on top, folded back like a bed. Lastly he moved a row of the potted plants nearer the little campsite. He heard the shower in the bathroom stop and the pleasing melody of Legolas’ song grew louder. Hastily, Gimli laid out a few pieces of waybread and a canteen of spring water. All was ready. "Ah, what’s this?" the elf asked. "Our camp under the eves of Fangorn. Do you not remember it?" "I remember the fire, the waybread and my own great thirst. Long had we run tracking the hapless hobbits." "Well, come. Lie yourself down before the fire’s warmth. Be at your ease." "I don’t remember the soft blankets, Gimli. Nor do I remember your expression being so full of mirth. As I recall, you were wary of the forest, its closeness, its deep places." "Tonight," Gimli said embracing his companion, "nothing worries me except your good health. Peace, Legolas." "Peace to you, Friend," Legolas whispered as his lips found the dwarf's mouth.
The fire crackled and breathed evergreen as Gimli tossed a few big pine cones onto the hearth. Legolas stirred and reached a willowy arm around the dwarf’s thick waist. They lay on their sides facing one another, too filled with emotion for real discussion. Finally, Legolas asked, "Are you sure you wouldn’t rather lie in our bed?" Gimli replied, "I find the fire cheery. Don’t you?" "It deepens the color of your beard," Legolas said softly. Gimli smiled and tugged at the long braids he wore. He cast his gaze up and down the slim, fire-gilded arms, the slender throat, the elf's angular face, to the stunning, wide eyes that glittered with the flames’ reflections. A small bandage marred the perfect features. Some bruising along the temple and a patch of golden hair shorn away. Gimli sighed at his lack of words. "More erudite you will always be," the dwarf muttered. "But, I will vanquish you upon the blanket." At that instant, the dwarf set into motion his well-crafted plan of seduction. He pounced atop his lover and kissed him soundly. Legolas did not even try to rally a defense. Instead, he lay back and returned the ardent kisses. His slender hands rippled over a wide belt buckle and slim fingers fluttered free the buttons of the dwarf’s shirt. Gimli’s questing hands found no fortress of clothing to storm. The blanket was thrown back, like the gates of the citadel, open for the king’s return. The White Tower awaited and Gimli bowed to pay homage. Then, the catches in the elf’s throat, the open-mouthed breathing coming in quickening gasps became music to the dwarf. In time with the same rhythm, the elf’s smooth fingers teased his companion. He stroked the thick pelt, enjoying rubbing the hair the wrong way. Gimli used his teeth and Legolas quickly stroked more intimately. The scent of pine resin in the fire heightened their enjoyment. They were both breathing hard, as if they still ran to save their friends. Then, one after the other they reached the pinnacle and stared into the other’s eyes as their bodies slipped exhausted toward slumber. A final kiss and agreement upon the arrangement of arms, legs and heads. Gimli was the first to sleep and he dreamed of Legolas’ singing. The fire was merely smoldering coals and fine white ash when the first rays of the sun fell upon them. Legolas had pulled the blankets up at some point during the night as the fire burnt down. He seemed to still walk in elven dreams. Gimli yawned. Then he heard a knock at the door.
When Gimli heard the initial rapping, he thought about hiding under the covers, but a second knock, more insistent than the first, sounded at their door. Legolas rolled over. Gimli knew from long experience that the elf was awakening and shifting to listen. "How long have they been at the door, Gimli?" Legolas whispered into the dwarf’s ear. "A minute, no more," Gimli answered, his voice hushed too. The elf changed his position again and Gimli realized he intended to rise and greet the visitor. At once, the matter of clothing occurred to the dwarf. Legolas was stunningly nude, his rippling hair unbraided, cascading white in the dawn light, down his long back like the falls above Henneth Annun, the Window on the West in the wooded hills of Ithilien. Gimli, the more practical of the pair, had kept his clothing at hand. He reached for his britches and pulled them on. "I’ll get the door," Gimli growled, kicking off the thick coverlet. "You take the blanket and go to our room. Get dressed." "If you wish," Legolas said mildly, turning and kissing Gimli before he could get to his feet. There was a hint of mischief in the elf’s half-closed eyes. Gimli noticed the playfulness of questing fingers on his thickly furred chest. He sighed. The knocking continued. He got to his feet as Legolas rose up too. Gimli gave his partner a pat on his flat backside to hurry him on his way. Elves could be so flightly, he thought. At the feel of the slap, Legolas arched his eyebrows and blew Gimli a kiss as he made a sarong of the blanket and tiptoed to the bedroom, careful to stay clear of windows. Frowning and wagging his head, Gimli wondered if the knock on Legolas’ head had influenced the elf’s thinking. More knocking, louder still, hammered at the door. Gimli concluded that they weren’t going away. He hurriedly pulled on his shirt and stepped into slippers. He muttered as he marched toward the door, "Patience, patience. I hear ye." Then, he swung the door open. He met a crowd of strange faces. A dozen cameras, flashing like lightning, blinded him. Steadycams and microphones were pushed toward him and a cacophony of loud questions deafened him. "Wait a minute," he shouted. "You mean to wake me on my first morning from hospital, at cock’s crow no less, to ask me about what?" The dissonance of a dozen hurried questions repeated. And Gimli raised his hands. He had faced the snarling, bellowing Uruk Hai of Isengard with a stout heart. This crowd of reporters was weakening his knees. He was about to retreat when he sensed reinforcements at his back. "Gimli," Legolas said cheerily. "Why are you keeping our guests waiting on the doorstep?" "Well, there’s quite a crowd and…," Gimli stammered, baffled by the elf’s failure to see the enemy at the gate. Then a slender hand rested on Gimli’s shoulder. A gentle squeeze followed. "Please," Legolas said to the reporters, "wait in the garden below, by the pool. We’ll be down directly." Gimli’s jaw dropped. The elf was going to give a press conference. No lawyer present and no discussion. Surely, the doctors must have addled his brain removing the bullet. As soon as the door was closed, the dwarf made his reservations known. "Are ye’ daffed?" Legolas smiled and shook his head. He said, "If I’m to draw out the Dark Lord, he must see me alive and well." Gimli slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. He remembered how Aragorn had wrestled service from the palantir of Isengard, revealing himself to the first Dark Lord, challenging him, and drawing the Eye away from Frodo and Sam. "So ye mean to meet him again?" "Yes," Legolas said. "Before he can harm anyone else."
While the shower was warming, Legolas made a call to Old Took’s office and told him to watch any of the news channels. He requested that Lieutenant Davis be warned too since the press would likely storm his office later that morning. Oh, and one last thing, Brandybuck was to return a certain item to the apartment before he became a target. Was the message understood? Old Took replied that it was. Legolas appeared before the press roughly fifteen minutes later, showered, braided and fashionably attired in a striped shirt, jeans and suede boots. Gimli had showered too and changed into the gabardine garb of a construction boss. He brought his hard hat with him after whispering to Legolas that he planned to rush off to his work site if things went badly. Bright eyes, a wide smile and shrugged shoulders. When the elf didn’t argue, Gimli knew his companion already believed he’d won the point of discussion. Gimli scratched his chin. Something might not be right about the elf. It had been less than two days since the near fatal shooting. Outside in the courtyard garden the photographers and the newsmen set up their equipment for the conference. Legolas looked splendid on camera despite the missing lock of hair and the small bandage. Gimli admired his friend’s ease, straight-backed and genteel, amid the slim lady reporters crowding closely and vying for his attention. He answered their questions with straightforward statements. No riddles or double entendre. “No, I’ve never murdered anyone,” he said smiling disarmingly. “I’ve never attempted murder either.” A question from the back, “What happened at the warehouse downtown?” “Associates of mine brought a slave trade to my attention. A gruesome business run by orcs from the southern regions. We freed the prisoners. A police report was filed.” Another voiced piped, “Is it true that your mistress was killed in the park across the street from here?” “The Lady Mirandwyn, a good friend and my neighbor, died after she and her son were attacked in the park. I can assure you that the people responsible will be caught.” “How’s the boy?” one of the women reporters asked, pushing a microphone toward the elf’s mouth. “He’s recovering in hospital. I have taken him as my ward.” “Is it true you supply food to the dwarf vagrants in the park?” Another reporter shouted out a question concerning his relationship to the dwarf, Gimli Gloinson. Legolas ignored those reporters completely. Someone asked him how he planned to defend himself from all the allegations being brought against him. He stated that he had full confidence in his law firm. “Who shot you in the park, Mr. Greenleaf,” a man called out. “I believe it was the chauffeur of Mr. Caleb Whiteclaw. Investigations are underway.” “Why would someone in Mr. Whiteclaw’s employ want to shoot you?” “I suggest you look into the dealings in the southern forests. They are being burned by Mr. Whiteclaw’s corporation, More-Door Mining, to clear the land for the extraction of minerals, especially gold.” “How did you gain this information, Mr. Greenleaf?” “On the Internet, of course. Now, I must bid you good day. I’m growing tired.” The newsmen and women snapped more photos. Legolas turned, took a few steps and then suddenly, reached out for support. Gimli caught him in his robust arms and helped Legolas back upstairs. “Why dinna ye tell me ye felt faint?” “I knew you’d stand by me, Gimli. I knew you wouldn’t leave.” “Better rest now. The fat’s in the fire for sure.” “Yes, it is.”
60 The Strength of the Mountain Gimli flung open the bedroom door. Legolas leaned heavily on the dwarf’s broad shoulder. Dappled light from the arched windows spread across the bed’s green and brown leaf-patterned counterpane. In the corner sat stacked their war gear where Gimli had placed it upon their homecoming. In other respects, the room seemed as restful as ever. Approaching the bed slowly, Gimli helped Legolas recline. He shifted soft pillows under the flaxen mane, sweeping errant locks into place. The elf smiled and closed his eyes. Gimli gripped his friend’s hand. "Don’t ye leave me, Elf. I stayed by you." "I’m so tired, Gimli," Legolas breathed, his head falling back into the pillows. "Rest ye’ll have then, and I’ll stand guard. Ye’re missing Narya. I’m sure of it." "Aye, Gimli. I am." "Rest, and gain back your strength. Young Brandybuck will be here soon. Narya’s with him." Legolas shut his eyes tightly and grimaced. He’d tried to nod his head, but pain stopped him. He gasped. "Oh, my head hurts so, Gimli." "I can see that," the dwarf replied. "Do you wish to return to hospital? To the kind doctor?" "No…" There was a long pause and then the elf went on, "I fear for us both. Fearsome is our enemy." Gruffly, Gimli replied, "Never have I known you, or any of elfkind, to shake in terror." Legolas smiled weakly. "You kindly forget Durin’s Bane, old friend." "Well, I remember that my knees were as water when you walked boldly along the Paths of the Dead." "You comfort me, Gimli, as always," Legolas replied with a sigh. "You are like the strength of the mountain while I have withered like blossoms touched by frost." Gimli whispered, "Ye seemed robust las’ night, and happy to be home." "Home," Legolas said, his brow furrowing deeply. "That’s it. I’m sick with the longing." "We’ll get through these next few days. Then we’ll see about yer ship. Does that please ye?" "It does, Gimli. It does." Legolas rubbed the center of his forehead between his eyes. Then he reclined again and squeezed Gimli’s hand. The dwarf brushed back the silken tresses that had fallen over the elf’s fine features. Gimli whispered, "I’ll fly to the kitchen and get ye some ice. Would that help?" "Stay." "I will." Long moments passed. A deep sigh and then, a slow drifting off. Only the grasping of his hand told Gimli that his life-mate still lived. The elf lay still as stone. Gimli chewed his lip and clung to the cool, fragile hand. He searched for the pulse at the wrist. It was slow. Delicately the wind chimes sounded in the garden below. A bird sang a sweet sad song. The trees sighed and Gimli sorely wished he knew their speech. Were they bidding a friend good-bye? The clock chimed eleven. There was a light rapping at the door. Then a louder one. Gimli huffed and looked around. Then he patted the elf’s limp hand and gently laid it upon his friend’s breast. He spoke softly in Legolas’ ear. "A moment only. I’ll return. Have no fear." Gimli bolted to the door and flung it open. Two hobbits stood waiting. They were all smiles and bearing a basket. Second breakfast, Gimli concluded instantly. "Come in, gentlemen," the dwarf said, holding the door and then, looking up and down the landing for newsmen and photographers. "We saw you on the Telly," Brandybuck said. "A fine speech Legolas gave. Where is he? Signing autographs yet?" "He’s abed. And not well." "What can we do?" Brandybuck asked. Then he added, "We’ve brought you scones, butter and jam." "The ring. You brought it?" "Oh, aye," Brandybuck said, placing the basket on the table. "Come then," Gimli said, waving for them to follow. "We’ll place it on his finger. I’m sure it will give him heart." "My famous ancestor," Underhill said softly, "was much attached to a ring." "They all were," Gimli said. "One of my ancestors died when his was taken from him." "That was the noble Thrain, was it not?" Brandybuck asked. "Well done, scholar," Gimli said. "Well done, lad." "Shall I show him now?" Underhill asked Brandybuck at the bedroom door. "Show me what?" Gimli asked. Hobbits had a way of drawing things out. Surprises and running jokes were the stuff of hobbit humor. These two were full of mischief today. May the Valar help those who retain a hobbit lawyer, Gimli thought ruefully. He glanced over at Legolas. The elf was stirring.
Go on to Chapters 61-70 Back to the beginning, or back to LOTR.
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