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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 61 Rings
Legolas rolled toward the visitors at his bedroom door. He yawned. His slim hand covered his mouth. He blinked like an owl in the bright room. Then his gaze focused on Brandybuck. A dark blond eyebrow shot up. "Approach, Ringbearer," Legolas whispered, holding out his hand. "You are not angry, are you, sir?" "Not in the least, bold hobbit. Rather, I am in your debt." "Well, I haven’t put it on, if that worried you. I have carried it always in my pocket. ‘Tis quite warm, you know. Oh, and young Eorand smiled when he chanced to look upon it." "I am glad he found some comfort. How goes it with the boy?" "He grieves sorely." "As do I." "We will all miss the Lady Mirandwyn. She was a kind and noble woman. Her son will want for nothing, will he, sir." "Not a thing will he lack." Legolas took Narya from Brandybuck and slipped it on his finger. He sighed and smiled. His eyes closed and he seemed to drift off to another realm. The others waited. A quarter hour passed. Gimli had pointed out chairs and they’d drawn them up quietly to the bedside. Without a word they kept their vigil. Finally, Legolas returned to them. His eyes sparkled as they had before he was hurt. The only evidence of the blow was the missing lock of blond hair. Gimli touched the spot. The wound was healed. "I’m glad ye’re back," the dwarf said. The supple body of the elf bent down, like a willow bends to water, and lips met while arms embraced. The hobbits shared the moment holding hands, eyes shining. Then, Legolas swung his legs out of bed, sitting up on the edge, Gimli’s arm supporting his back. "My thanks," Legolas said to the hobbits. "My deepest thanks." "We have an even greater surprise for you, sir. And it is a secret. We four are the only ones who will know it." "Well, what is it, lads?" the dwarf asked impatiently. "After the battle," Underhill began. "And quite under the noses of the investigating officers," Brandybuck added. Underhill gave his companion a sharp glance. Then he went on, "I retrieved the severed hand. With due care, I tugged the ring off the index finger, sir. Then I made a loud show of finding the hand in the pool and giving it to the officers." At the mention of the Ruling Ring, Gimli clutched his chest and Legolas went pale as the snows of Redhorn Pass. The hobbits looked at one another, at first pleased by the dramatic effects of their tale. Then, they grew concerned. Finally, Underhill searched his pockets and took out a little paper envelope. He offered it to Legolas. "Here, sir," he said holding out his small hand. "You should take care of it." "I cannot," Legolas said. "No elf can touch the One Ring and remain who he is." "Then, Mr. Gloinson, you take it," Underhill said. "No gold shall have power over me. The Lady foretold it. I cannot take the Ruling Ring." "Then what shall we do?" Underhill whispered. Gimli cleared his throat and laid a heavy hand on Underhill’s shoulder. The dwarf said, "I’m sure you’ve studied the Red Book, Mr. Underhill. You’ve read the tale of your famous ancestor. We must follow his example. We must find a way to destroy that ring before the Dark Lord comes looking for it." The two hobbits stared at one another. Underhill pushed the envelope toward Brandybuck who pushed it back. A flicker of a smile crossed elven lips. "We’ll help you," Legolas said. "For now, keep it safe and out of sight." At that moment the phone rang. Gimli answered it and spoke softly into the receiver. He hung up and turned to the others. "I have been summoned by the authorities to give an accounting of our bloody works in the park." "I will go with you," Legolas said. "Give me only a moment to freshen my appearance." "Old Took will be there too," Gimli said. "Then you two," Legolas said looking at the younger hobbits, "need to be about your ordinary affairs. Draw no unnecessary attention your way. Is that understood?" "Yes, sir," they chorused. "We will stop at the law office after our interrogations. Supper afterwards, agreed?" "Oh, aye," they said again, looking less worried when contemplating a meal. "Take care then," Legolas said, kissing each one on the top of the head. "Ringbearers."
When Legolas and Gimli drove up to the police station, several of the officers waved. Legolas nodded politely, tipping his stylish grey fedora. "Some of these officers still think I’m a gangster, Gimli," Legolas whispered to his shorter companion. "So, they know ye’ then," Gimli replied with a barking laugh. "At least, ye don’ smell o’ brandy and pipeweed like the hobbits." Legolas blinked, sniffed and smiled. Then he said, gesturing. ""Look, Gimli. There’s the kind officer Riley." Pleased to see the friendly face, Gimli shook the man’s hand. The young officer seemed genuinely pleased to see the famous pair. Older troopers were coolly cordial, knowing something was afoot and maybe guessing that the fey elf was not their worst enemy. Then, Lieutenant Davis strolled out of the door and beckoned the visitors inside. He led them to his disorderly office where Old Took was already waiting. Davis offered his guests straight-backed, wooden chairs and mugs of strong coffee. Then he sat down, sinking heavily into his softly cushioned office chair. He took out a pad of paper and a pen. Leisurely he wrote a few lines. Gimli raised his eyebrow and then scowled. He muttered for only the elf’s ears as he sipped the coffee, "Ye’d think the plush chairs would go to the guests." "Shhh, Gimli," Legolas whispered. "This won’t take long." Davis rocked back in his chair and then suddenly looked up at his guests. "Well, would you please explain who started the rumble in the park?" he asked without preamble. "Was it self-defense as Underhill has claimed all along?" "Yes, it was, sir," Gimli stated. "Our lives or theirs." "But you went looking for them. Is that not true?" "It is true. But we searched for them because they hunted our friends, sir." "This is a private war then, between these bikers and the park dwarves?" "Aye. But there is great enemy too." "As great, no doubt, as the one from the Third Age?" Davis asked with a smirk. "Oh aye, laddie," Gimli replied, standing up and taking a step toward the wide desk. The officer sat up and rolled his chair back a few inches. Legolas caught the dwarf by the arm and with a look stopped him as if he’d grown roots. The police officer took a deep breath and settled again. He rubbed his jaw. Legolas tugged on Gimli’s arm and the dwarf returned reluctantly to his chair. The elf patted the thick forearm and ran smooth fingers over the rough, wide hand clenched around the thick knee. The officer’s gaze flickered from one visitor to the other. They stared at him intently. "And this chain of events all started when your friend, Mr. Greenleaf, had his little disagreement with the now deceased Mr. Fenton?" Davis asked. Firm pressure from Legolas’ hand held back Gimli’s explosive answer. The elf replied calmly, "I believe that Ms. Winsom and Mr. Fenton intended extortion originally. Then another client of Ms. Winsom’s grew interested in me. He discovered I owned a valuable object that was of interest to him. Mr. Fenton wouldn’t play ball, as you say. So Mr. Fenton met an untimely end." "That theory conveniently takes you off the hook for both the attempted and the actual murder of Mr. Fenton." "The man killed in the park fit the description of Mr. Fenton’s killer, tall, with long blond braided hair. If Ms. Winsom remains in your protective custody, I believe you need to speak with her. She was working for both Mr. Fenton and the source of our current trouble, a Mr. Whiteclaw." Davis rapidly jotted down notes on his little pad. He glanced over at Old Took who seemed to be napping. "Mr. Took?" "Uh?" the old hobbit said suddenly opening his eyes. "Did I miss something?" "Would you like a little more tea or coffee?" Davis asked softly. "No," Old Took said, shaking his head. "No, thank you. I’m just worn out, it would seem. I need a good night’s rest." "Then you’ll have one. I’ve talked to Judge Chisom and the district attorney’s office. We’ve agreed to drop all previous charges against Mr. Greenleaf here, if he and Mr. Gloinson agree to help us with our investigation of the death of Ms. Mirandwyn a’Eothred. What do you know of the headless corpse left in the park?" Legolas answered, "He was the chief of the Black Riders under the command of another who fought against me. A creature who claimed elvish blood and the name Celebdil in elvish, which is rendered Whiteclaw in the common tongue." "Which of you killed the biker then?" "It was my privilege, sir," Gimli said speaking up. "Did you know him?" "Only that he came for me and I met him in fair combat. He boasted that no man could best him. Well, he never fought a dwarf." "His name was King Cole, a biker of some reputation in the leather and chains circuit. His gang, the Black Crows, have in the past made a habit of hiring themselves out as bodyguards, enforcers and collection agents. Did you owe anyone money, Master Dwarf?" "No, sir. I’m all paid up on everything with something to spare. I steer clear of crooked unions in my business too. Dwarves are a thrifty race and shrewd, if I may boast of it." "Have you made enemies in your work?" Davis asked. "Not that I am aware." "So, Mr. Whiteclaw was after some object d’art of Mr. Greenleaf’s, is that all?" Gimli replied, "Our home was ransacked. Officer Riley took down the report." "I remember," Davis said nodding. He wrote a few more lines on his pad. He shook his head and frowned. "Why do I get the feeling you are not telling me all you know?" he said, looking the pair in the eye. Legolas returned his gaze and coolly replied, "We are of another age. Some secrets must remain. Yet, truly I advise you to speak with Ms. Winsom for we can say no more at this time." "Are you all aware that I could throw both of you back into lock-up for failure to cooperate?" Davis growled. "You have that power," Legolas said, sitting straight-backed on the hard seat of his chair. "And yet, we may say no more." "Then you are free to go. I will reserve the right to call upon you again." "And we will answer," Legolas said, bowing slightly and granting the officer a fleeting smile.
"Gimli," Legolas said breathily into the dwarf’s ear while they lay abed that evening. "I believe I know what we must do." "I hope it has much to do with wild copulatin’, ye randy elf," Gimli said, raising his mouth from the elf’s delicious skin just under the left ear, his voice deep and rough as gravel. "I believe that we must fly to Minas Tirith," Legolas said dreamily, utterly enthralled by the dwarf’s intimate caresses. Gimli sat up. He placed two meaty hands on either side of the elf’s face. His knees bumped the elf’s ribs. He scowled and grimaced. "Na’ on a plane!" he roared. "Are ye daffed?" "I know you don’t like flying, Friend Gimli Gloinson, but this time we must!" Legolas replied, slim arms entwining around the thick, corded neck of his lover. "Don be friendin’ me," Gimli grumbled as he sank back into the elf’s embrace. "Jus’ when I thought we’d have a fine night together without a worry, no interruptions, ye break the news that we’ll be mounting one of those great birds." Soft lips kissed the bearded cheek and searched out tender places, earlobes, eyelids and finally lips. Sweetly, Legolas coaxed without words. A deep, open-mouthed kiss, like honey, like raspberries in summer. Gimli groaned while he devoured the kiss. He mumbled, "A horse was bad enough." "I’ll see that it is a pleasurable experience for you," Legolas promised between more kisses. "There’ll be champagne and strawberries. Chocolate flavored coffee? We could try for the Mile High Club. It’s something we’ve never attempted in all our years in Middle Earth." "Ye tempt me, ye do," Gimli said. "But why the White City?" "We must approach the king, Elessar’s heir." "Beg audience with King Anarion? He might try to take the ring from us." "I wish learn if he has the strength to use the palantir." "Why?" Holding Gimli close, Legolas whispered, "The Dark Lord will return for his creation. Before he is able, we must carry it out of his reach. There is no destroying it here, not without great devastation among men." "You care that much for the men of this world?" "I would see Eorand’s children, if I could. And I’m sure you’d like to think your great works of engineering endured down the ages. Besides, Celebdil will never guess that we might carry it Westward." "Who will carry it?" "I would beg you to take it, Gimli. The Lady Galadriel foretold that no gold would have power over you. I trust her sight. I trust you." "And if they turn me away from the Bright Shore?" "They will not. I promise you, Friend." "Then I will gladly go anywhere you travel," Gimli said softly. "A dwarf knows a thing or two about duty." Then Gimli paused and stroked back locks of long blond hair, exposing more pale, smooth elven throat. "Now, here’s a pressing duty," he whispered, his lips and beard tickling the sensitive skin of Legolas' throat, making the elf shiver and clasp his companion tightly. Outside their window, the sultry winds rustled the palm fronds. The trees sighed and the nightingale sang to the crescent moon.
Gimli, stout conqueror of my heart, arise, for the sun is tiptoe on the mountain top,” Legolas breathed into the dwarf’s ear. “Wake and greet the day.” There was a sputter and a snort. The dwarf rolled over. A pillow was dragged free of the bed linen and stuffed, by a drawn up arm, under a heavy head. Short legs kicked and a brawny arm yanked the coverlet over the pillowed head. “Grumble, mumble, grumble, mumble,” Gimli replied, blankets muffling his responses. Legolas bent down and kissed with petal soft lips the wide furrowed forehead, the only part of his bedmate that remained uncovered. More airy speech, elvish this time. Still no coherent response. At last, Legolas sang softly in tune with the melodious chirping of the birds at the window. Then, slowly, Gimli’s head reappeared, like the head of a tortoise emerging from its shell. Legolas laughed and sang a little louder blissfully greeting him and the new day. The dwarf rolled onto his broad back and blinked at his companion, who sat on the bed his legs crossed, surrounded by a bright halo of dawn’s light flooding in from the arched window. Gimli reached up and took handfuls of the glittering, streaming gold before his eyes. He tugged the elf’s face closer and returned all the many kisses he’d received. “Never say a dwarf fails to give in return as generously as he’s got. To our friends, our gifts overflow.” “Ah, Friend, you were as the springs that fill Kheled-zaram.” “An’ you were a thirsty traveler,” Gimli exclaimed. “Ye near drank the spring dry!” “I trust in your endurance, Gimli,” Legolas said with a smile, snuggling down into the blankets once more beside his friend. “I shall be thirsty again.” There was a long pause. “Then ye cannot mean to go just yet,” Gimli said, softly kissing the rosy cheek nearest to him. Dark lashes fluttered revealing eyes like amethyst. “We make arrangements today. One more night we’ll spend here, at home.”
The phone rang, clanking like the hammers under the Mountain. Gimli stretched out his arm and snatched the phone. "Aye, ye found me Straton. How goes the last of the pouring?" A pause. A nodding dwarven head, firm beard tugging and finally a grin. "There’s something else," Gimli said. "Will ye meet me at Took’s law office before lunchtime? Some legalities that I’ve neglected, I’m afraid. I’d like ye there as a friend." "Good. About eleven then." Gimli closed the small device and set the phone back on the breakfast table. Then he sat down heavily and opened his dayplanner. Legolas poured him some coffee and passed him a muffin warm from the microwave and the bowl of fruit. "We must find the Park Dwarves," Legolas said, crunching into a green apple while gazing out of the window. A laptop blinked on at the desk with beeps and the music of flutes. The dwarf nodded, not looking up but rather jotting a few more notes in his dayplanner. "I plan to provide for Black Pete’s gang," Legolas said after a few more bites and gentle tapping his laptop’s mouse square. "Oh, and something for Juanito’s men too." At the exact same moment they sipped coffee. Legolas returned his gaze to the park beyond their home. Gimli studied his records. "Aye," Gimli said a moment later. "I’m turning over Khazad Construction to Straton. He’s a good man. He’ll run it well, keep all the workers and take on a few more." "I plan to have Old Took place my art collection and my stock assets into a trust for Eorand," Legolas said. "The market’s doing well and I’ll ask Ms. Gamgee to keep watch over the portfolio for him. She has a good eye." In a low voice Gimli asked, "Did ye get the tickets yet?" "Tickets?" Legolas asked. "Ye know, the great flying beast to Minas Tirith," Gimli said, his voice husky. "Oh," Legolas replied blinking, biting his lip because he knew how hard it was for Gimli to ask for details about the flight they had to take. The dwarf had buried himself in his dayplanner. Even so, Legolas noticed the red blush on the ears of his friend. Gently, Legolas asked, "Would you like to go very early?" "No!" Gimli said shaking his head. "I need to pack a few things. How about midday?" "Done. One o’clock tomorrow. We’ll have a nice brunch and then be off to the airport. Or would you rather finish up whatever food we have here?" "We have naught but a few things," Gimli said gesturing with his pen. "Have you called the market for a thing besides those apples?" Legolas looked at the fruit in the bowl. The bananas that had been green when they arrived were soft and speckled brown on deep gold. A little mold dusted some of the grapes. Half of the apples were no longer crisp but mellow instead. Shrugging his slight shoulders, Legolas picked up the grapes and went out onto the balcony. The songbirds that had been singing, flew to his hand and took the grapes, eating them greedily. Gimli watched his companion as he spoke with the birds. "What are they saying?" Gimli asked. "They want us to stay." "Ye must say farewell. Beg them to sing for the boy." The elf’s left hand was crowded with little songsters. He stroked their sleek feathered backs with a delicate fingertip as he whispered to them. They chirped and tilted their heads. Dark bead-like eyes peered up at him. From down below a car’s engine chugged to life. The birds took wing. "Farewell, my little ones," Legolas whispered. The elf looked toward the tall trees of the park and sighed. The breeze was soft and cool, blowing all the way from the sea. A sudden mist filled the elf’s bright eyes. "I hear gulls, Gimli," he said softly. "They are far away, but I hear them." The dwarf joined his friend on the balcony. They stood side by side and each took strength from the stance of the other like trees in a forest resisting a strong wind. "You comfort me, Gimli," Legolas breathed. Gimli squeezed the elf’s arm with his wide hand. "Along the Paths of the Dead I followed you. I’ll get on a plane, and a ship. Fear it not," Gimli said, his voice as rough as fresh cut stone.
The visit to Took’s office was uncommonly tearful. Underhill surrendered the ring on its mithril chain to Gimli who tucked it inside his shirt. It was very heavy, he told Legolas. He did not mention the irregular heart beat that occurred when the evil object touched his skin. Straton, the foreman, was nearly over-come when he learned his own future. Gimli left him his dayplanner, his laptop and keys to all the storage facilities the company owned. Instructions for how to share out the company to the workers were signed and notarized by Old Took himself who promised to help with any other legal matters regarding Khazad Construction. They toasted the new boss with Gimli’s favorite dark ale. Even Legolas sipped a tall frothy glassful. Then, Legolas considered the disposition of his racing car and his horse. He decided to have them sent to his father in Mirkwood as a farewell gift. Underhill would see to everything and make the trip with a letter to the ancient King of Greenwood as the forest was now known. "He will seem somewhat transparent when you see him," Legolas said to the young hobbit. "Don’t let him frighten you. He has used the effect for many years. Now, he truly is fading and I cannot persuade him to journey westward. One day, those who walk among the trees will only hear his voice like a faint echo. It is our way in the Wood, at the end of things." Underhill promised he would see to all in the matter. Legolas thanked him with a kiss on his cheek. The young hobbit blushed. He shuffled papers a moment, quite overcome. Finally, it was time to go to the hospital to visit with Eorand and say their goodbyes to the dear boy. Ms. Gamgee got her shawl. Old Took tied a black ribbon around the right sleeve of everyone’s jacket. The memorial for Ms. Mirandwyn would take place in the hospital chapel at two o’clock. Eorand was pleased to see his friends, yet dry-eyed as any young Rohirrim. During the ceremony for his mother’s passing tears welled up only during the singing of the funeral song. Ten members of his father’s eored acted as honor guard. The captain himself sang. Afterward, Captain Gareth, a descendant of Haleth the Valiant, gave his promise to accept Eorand into the eored when he had finished his education. The boy thanked him. After a moment’s hesitation, the stern faced captain embraced the boy and begged him to call upon his shield brothers if ever there was need. Ms Gamgee then took the boy’s hand and led him back to his room. There was a tearful moment when the boy learned that his amazing neighbors were leaving. He offered to return all they’d given him if only they would decide to stay. Shaking his head slowly, Legolas said, "Your world is in danger. If we do not carry a great power into the West, many will suffer. You, of all young men, know the pain of sacrifice. Be content to guard the peace." Gimli gave the boy a great hug and whispered into his ear, "Do not long for a death in battle, boy. It is highly over-rated. Would that your dear parents had not perished so." "Will you visit once more before you go?" "No, lad," Gimli said. "But think fondly of us when you feed the elf's little birds and water all his plants. Oh, and don’t scour the stone in the bathroom too hard." "Gimli," Legolas interrupted. "Eorand’s an intelligent fellow. You need not worry over your stonework." "I’ll take care of everything," Eorand said. "And there’ll be a yellow ribbon on one of the trees." "Yellow as gold, bright as the morning sun," Legolas said, kissing the boy’s forehead. "You will be in my heart too." Gimli cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes. Ms. Gamgee was daubing her eyes with a fine lace handkerchief. She pulled out another for Gimli. He waved it away, weeping openly as he hugged the boy for the last time.
Another stop before going home, the park and the 9th Street bridge. Gimli parked his 4-runner down at the water’s edge. There was no sign of the dwarven encampment. Legolas checked the area and shrugged his narrow shoulders. Then, near the abandoned fire pit, Gimli found a small arrangement of pebbles. He looked up at the sun and oriented himself so he was facing north. "They are southwest of here. Underground, I believe. See the last pebble? It’s black." Legolas raised his eyebrow. "Only a dwarf would know that," Legolas said. "Am I not correct?" "Exactly," Gimli replied. "Only a dwarf, or someone who’s lived with dwarves, would know to read rocks and pebbles." "Where do you think they are?" "The Gloin Reservoir," Gimli said with confidence. "Get back into the truck. I know the fastest way down." Through narrow neighborhood streets, Gimli drove unerringly to the service entrance of the underground complex of the city's central drainage management. After speaking briefly to the dwarven security guard, they took an electric cart down into the tunnels beneath the city. Only emergency lights burned. A shallow trickle of water flowed in the cement creek bed. It was nothing that would stop them. Gimli listened, consulted a plaque on the wall and pointed ever downward. Legolas peered into the dim recesses and clung tightly to the metal bar on the side of the cart as it sped around a twisting path. In the pale phosphorescent light, he caught glimpses of crowned columns and vaulted ceilings arching overhead. Was it a trick of the faint glow or had Gimli’s company wrought a new Moria within their city? The whine of the cart echoed as they passed through vast chambers. The air was colder too, damp and unmistakably subterranean. Legolas shivered. A thick arm encircled his waist. He stroked with silken fingers the rough hand that reassured him. Legolas whispered, "You comfort me, Gimli." "I’ll be squeezin’ yer hand on the plane, Friend," Gimli replied with snort. There was a pause. Then he said, "We’re not far now." In the blackness of the next tunnel, Legolas breathed a soft kiss against the dwarf’s bearded cheek and then leaned into him as the cart flew around a sharp turn. Brighter light up ahead meant that they had entered the chamber called the Gloin Reservoir which by design sheltered those in need. As they approached, Legolas saw the dwarves huddled together. He heard the low humming of a plaintive song. Gimli stopped the cart and gave his companion a gentle push. They got out of their little vehicle. "We’ve arrived at a bad time," Gimli said. "One of them has died." "I will wait here then, Gimli," Legolas said. "No," the dwarf said. "Elves have welcomed me. Therefore you shall always be an honored guest among dwarves." They left the cart and walked to the small knot of Park Dwarves, Laci Kacison, Narsi Norison, and Sober Boferson. A dozen others they did not know. Sadly, they did recognize Burli Bomberson who lay still, his head on a stone, treasures piled about him. "What happened?" Gimli asked. "The wound refused to heal," Narsi told him. "He was tired," young Laci said softly. Another dwarf said, "He’s with his ancestors now, warmed by the Great Forge and listening to the tune of hammers on mithril and steel." Legolas turned away and averted his face. "Nay," Sober said. "Be not saddened, Forest-born. Not all beings crave so long a life." "I am yet in his debt," Legolas explained to them. "Your debt is forgiven," Narsi said. Then he shook his head. "It is not true that dwarves demand their due from beyond the grave." Gimli handed a mug of ale to Legolas. He held another for himself. "Drink, Friend. Toast his name and deeds." "That I will do, Gimli," he said. "Though it saddens me." After the reading of the deceased’s will, Gimli and Legolas gave the Park Dwarves the news that any who wanted work could report to Briggs Straton at the central office of Khazad Khonstruction. There was plenty of work for all. Many of them nodded and accepted the offer. Narsi, with Laci in hand, broke the news to everyone that they would have their first child when summer returned. The grinding wheel turned, they said. Death and life were phases of the moon, coming and going like all natural things. More toasts and more songs, joyful ones of greeting amid those of farewell. Finally, Gimli bid his kind farewell. He did not tell them of his plans for his own long journey. Legolas, standing by, waited patiently for his companion to drink his fill. It was unlikely they’d ever visit New Moria again.
It was their last night. Legolas had spent a good deal of it on the balcony, gazing at the pines, the night sky and listening to nightingales in the shrubs below. He’d had more than a few glasses of sweet wine. He gnawed his lip and resisted the urge to give way to tears. Finally, he swallowed the last of the wine and headed to the stone grotto bath. He’d decided to luxuriate in warm water for an hour before joining Gimli in bed. The dwarf had his own rituals. He’d lit candles and scented the air with incense. He helped the elf disrobe and then indulged Legolas in the pleasure of having his hair lathered and his back washed. Similar kindness was Legolas’ gift to Gimli and before their wet debauchery had ended, the pair had used up all the hot water. Then they moved to the bedroom. For Legolas, silk sheets had never felt so sensuous. Gimli’s mouth had never nibbled so seductively, so effectively before. No voice was sweeter in the hollow of his sensitive ear than Gimli’s rough brogue that last night. Being half-drunk helped. For a time, Legolas forgot that they were leaving their beautiful home. Then the sorrow of fallen mallorn leaves returned and raked at his heart. He drew Gimli closer. He twined his arms about the solid sleeping form as a tree sends its roots around stone. At last, when darkness was deepest, upon the dwarf’s head the elf let fall crystal teardrops, like bitter, cold, autumn rain. Dawn was only moments old when Legolas returned to the present. The night before they had planned to sleep late, then, pack a few things in the morning after a quick breakfast. Dwarves, Legolas realized, rarely kept to plans. Gimli had been up before dawn, going through mementos, packing some and storing others. There was the crystal collection from caves they’d visited, including samples from Erebor, Moria and the Glittering Caves. There were bracelets, rings and necklaces fashioned out of gold and mithril, set with bright gems. Each held a memory. Each one rested a moment in the dwarf’s wide palm before going back into the treasure pile. "Pack up a crate, Gimli," Legolas whispered from the bed. "We’ll ship it down to Dol Amroth at the Bay of Belfalas and put it aboard our ship." "Are you serious?" "Would having your treasures give you joy?" Gimli looked at the gems and the glittering metal piled in a heap on the floor. Then he looked up at Legolas. The dwarf cleared his throat. He rubbed his chest where the heavy ring rested against his skin. He shook his head. Finally he said, "Your golden hair, Legolas, is more precious to me than all of this. I’ll take only Galadriel’s token and yours." "Pack the weapons then," Legolas suggested gently. "We’ll check them as luggage at the airport. Everything else we’ll carry."
“Would you like some cheese?” Gimli asked, his head in the refrigerator. “Cheddar or Swiss?” Legolas called out, filing a few more papers where he’d told Old Took he could find them. “It’s white,” Gimli replied. “It might be jack or mozzarella. No mold though.” “Just a slice or two and a piece of toast,” Legolas answered. He had no real appetite, especially not one for leaving his home. He chewed his lip and tidied up the writing desk. He glanced down at his slim, white hands and touched the tip of his finger to the warm jewel called the Heart of Narya. The elf sighed and gazed out of the window again. Gimli brought him a plate of toast and cheese. The elf nodded his thanks and began to nibble slowly. “So, ye’ve thought of everything, I take it,” Gimli said, his words a bit garbled by his last mouthful. “Nearly all,” Legolas said, wistfully gazing at the contents of a drawer. “I must yet bid farewell to my father and all my Greenwood kin.” “When will they sail into the West?” “Never,” Legolas said with a far-off look. Then he turned to Gimli and smiled. He said, “My father is far more stiff-necked than I ever was. He claims that he does not feel the longing. Mirkwood is his home. He will haunt it forever.” If Gimli had an opinion he did not voice it. Instead he took the elf’s plate and walked back into the kitchen. He had already filled the refrigerator and freezer with everything that might spoil before Ms. Gamgee moved in. He’d washed the last of the dishes, put fresh sheets on the bed and changed the message on the phone’s recorder. Finally, he slipped into his Armani suit coat and helped Legolas into his Versache. They were two successful businessmen on a trip, nothing more. Legolas winced as he closed the door and the lock clicked into place. Gimli had their luggage and he’d thrown it into the back of the Avalanche already. Legolas waved at Jericho Evans the security guard and the man walked over. He’d agreed to drive them to the airport. “Here, Evans,” Gimli said. “You drive and the get the feel of her. I’ve left the proper documents in the glove box. She’s yours until we return.” “I don’t know what to say,” the man said shyly, his dark complexion hiding his embarrassment at the loan of the fine vehicle. “Take the family for outings,” Legolas said smiling. “Have you ever taken a vacation?” “No, sir,” the man replied proudly. Then he laughed and admitted, “Those kids spend every penny I make.” Legolas thought, well, now you will be a man of means. Giving the man a friendly pat on the back Legolas said, “We appreciate the favor. Here’s a little something for your trouble.” The elf gave the security guard a sealed envelope. Inside was a check for five hundred thousand dollars. Legolas had spoken to Old Took about the family too. Even if Evans mislaid the envelope, the money would be transferred into his account. Elves are more than thorough in their affairs, he’d been told. Legolas hoped he appeared nonchalant. Evans folded the envelope and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “Thank you, sir,” he said with a little nod. Then he opened the doors for his passengers and got into the driver’s seat.
Straightening his elegant shoulders, Legolas picked up the carry-on bags and waited for Gimli who carried the cumbersome luggage they wanted to check. Inside the main doors and along the right side of the long corridor, ran the moving sidewalk.The elf helped the heavily-laden and reluctant dwarf onto the conveyance. They were headed first for the airport security office, to surrender their weapons. The airport was a sprawling complex of five terminals, a central rotunda and four satellite concourses connected by a variety of means including the rolling walkway, an underground shuttle and a skytrain. The corridors were only moderately crowded, but the elf and dwarf huddled together amid throngs of bustling strangers. Sharp-eyed, they watched for petty thieves while at the same time, generously assisting other passengers when they could. At brief, calm moments, they exchanged loving caresses until an elderly couple asked if they were newlyweds on honeymoon. They were glad to see the security office door. To expedite the weapons' check, Legolas had made a call to Lieutenant Davis before they’d left their home. The officer was to meet them and help them through security in return for a full accounting of the fight at the park. To obtain a waiver concerning the transportation of modern and antique weapons aboard the flight, Legolas was willing to negotiate quite a bit of information. He and Gimli were not leaving anything to chance concerning the Bow of Galadriel and a case of beloved axes. The elf knocked on the door and a uniformed secretary admitted them. Legolas was sure that she was a grey-eyed, dark-haired woman of Numenorean descent. He was relieved. Her ancestry was noble and no doubt, her background check was perfect. She worked at a sensitive post. "Good day, gentlemen," she said. "We were expecting you. May I get you cups of coffee?" Legolas nodded and thanked her for the kind reception. She fetched the coffee and gave Gimli the first cup. He put down their luggage and drank nearly the whole cupful in a few swallows. She brought him more and offered him a seat. Then, the young woman fetched Legolas his cup. As she handed it to him, her fingers glided lightly over his hand and touched the jewel of Narya. Softly, she recited a line of elvish verse composed by Queen Arwen at the time of King Aragorn’s death. "On this bleak day royalty departs Middle Earth. Its like on these shores, not known again." Capturing her eyes with his own, Legolas answered her in words he had spoken to Arwen that same day. "Henceforth, my Lady, our hope will be in the strength of Men who are the Flames of the West. They will light the Darkness." The secretary bowed her head when she heard the words. It was clear she knew who the travelers were. Moreover, her blood spoke to her of their passing out of Middle Earth. They all sat silently for a few minutes. The clock ticked and finally the phone rang. Then, with a long sigh, she led them to the door leading into the inner office. Knocking lightly, she opened it. A man, tall and straight, looking a great deal like Lord Denethor, Gondor’s last Steward, stood up and greeted them. "Welcome, gentlemen," the man said. "My name is Denabor Farris. You are acquainted with Lieutenant Davis." They shook hands and then the chief of security continued, "Please, place your burdens on the table to your right. Then, make yourselves comfortable. Enjoy another coffee and some lunch perhaps?" Elf and dwarf agreed and sat among the men. As they dined, a cursory exam was conducted at the table. A few papers passed between the seated guests and Lieutenant Davis left, satisfied in body and mind. Legolas looked at his watch and twitched Gimli’s sleeve. "Time to get our boarding passes," Legolas said. "I was afraid of that," the dwarf said, tapping his napkin to his lips and winking at the young woman who took his plate and looked so sadly at him. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity, gentlemen," Farris said. "It was a pleasure to meet you and see relics of the past." "You may call the elf old," Gimli exclaimed with a loud clearing of his throat. "He’s thrice my age." "And they say dwarves lack wit," Farris said smiling. "Keen as your axe, I’d say!" "We are in your debt, sir," Legolas said, shaking the man’s hand for the last time. "Middle Earth is in your debt, gentlemen," Farris murmured as he stood with his secretary by the outer door watching them walk down the concourse.
Next: Chapters 71-80 Back to the beginning, or back to LOTR.
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