FicWad

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During the fortnight that Gimli spent at Legolas's home while awaiting the return of Arod from Edoras, he kept busy helping some of the elven builders put the finishing touches on one of the out-buildings near Legolas's house. This building was to be used as a school of sorts, where anyone interested in the pursuit of art, whether it be painting, sculpting, or metalworking, could come to learn the craft from some of the finest elvish artists and artisans of Middle-earth, before they set sail to the Undying Lands and their skill would be lost forever. Gimli was speaking with one of the silversmiths, a tall, thin elf named Hilagaer, about the proper way to affix a very ornate handle to a teapot that the elven smith had just completed making.

"I do not think that you should be cutting holes in the pot", Gimli said. "If you do that, it may leak, and then what good will it be to anyone? I think you should weld the handle to it!"

"I cannot weld this, as you suggest", replied Hilagaer, with some measure of patience, "because the pot is far too delicate for that. Do not worry, Master Dwarf, I have made many of these things, and I do know what I am doing". He turned away from Gimli so that he could concentrate on fitting the very fine handle ends into the slots he had made in the sides of the pot. Once fitted, he would gently hammer the edges flat against the inside of the pot, and then press the silver together at the seams in order to make it waterproof. Gimli turned away in exasperation and walked toward the stables.

"Blast these elves for their stubbornness!" he thought to himself as he went in search of Legolas. "They do not know how to take instruction! I don't know how much more I can stand of their irritating ways! I do hope that that damned horse will return soon and we can leave for Minas Tirith!"

Legolas was in fact, at that moment in his stables, readying Arod for the trip. Since the journey would be faster if Gimli rode his own steed, he also readied a fast little pony named Cemera for him. The horses were packed heavily for the long journey to Moria as well, which Legolas and Gimli were to begin once they left Minas Tirith.

Legolas was dressed in a short green velvet waistcoat, under which he wore a white silk shirt, and he wore tight black breeches with tall black leather boots. His hair had been plaited for him by Fingalas, and hung down behind his back in a long braid. He had caught her glance while she was working on his hair, and it seemed to him that she had looked into his eyes rather searchingly while she worked. He felt strangely unsettled by that look, and thought about it as he strapped the bow and arrows that Lady Galadriel in Lothlorien had given him, to Arod's saddlebags. He felt there was no need for him to carry them on his own back as he surely would not need them.

Gimli entered the stables, and was much pleased to see Legolas making the preparations for their trip. "Oh, bless my beard", he exclaimed. "Thank goodness, and what a sight for sore eyes is Arod! Wait a moment, Legolas, will you, and I shall be right back with my belongings! Are we leaving right away?"

Legolas laughed. " Why are you in such a hurry? I thought we would leave after dinner, and that way we can make our farewells to my household staff. It may be a long time before we see them again."

"Oh, all right, then", said Gimli, feeling rather crestfallen. "I will just go and change my clothes."

After dinner they returned to the stables for the horses. Gimli was wearing a green and yellow tunic shot with gold thread over brown leggings and brown boots. His axe was strapped to Cemera's back. The two friends looked very smart in their traveling clothes as they galloped away northwards toward Minas Tirith, the city of the White Tower.

It was two days' ride to get there, where Aragorn, or King Elessar, and Arwen, his Queen, were most happy to see them and greeted them warmly. Aragorn was starting to show his age more and more, Legolas noticed, each time he saw him of late, because the King was a mortal man. His keen blue eyes were now edged with many fine lines, and his cheeks were more hollowed than they had been during his fighting days. His lips had grown pale and thin. He was thinner in body as well, and Legolas's heart ached to see the changes in his friend. He did not want to think about the inevitable aging that was taking place in Aragorn, whom he loved and revered. Arwen, on the other hand, still maintained her elvish appearance, as well as her otherworldly nature. She was tall, raven-haired, and pale of skin, and had great blue luminous eyes. Because she had wed a mortal man, she would not be able to go to the Undying Lands with her own kind after Aragorn passed away, but would be doomed to wander about alone until, when the time came, she would lie down and her spirit would wander as a passing shadow in the lands of Middle-earth.

"Come, and let us show you to your rooms", said Arwen, after they had spent some time reminiscing over a few goblets of wine. "You may settle yourselves, and then come and join us for dinner".

"Gimli was telling me you have found a new minstrel, a female elven singer, and that she is staying with you here", Legolas remarked to Aragorn, as the two walked arm in arm down one of the great hallways of the palace.

"Yes, her name is Lindaril", said Aragorn. "Wait until you see her, Legolas. She is a wonderful singer, and she is as lovely to look upon as she is to listen to".

"Gimli mentioned that she is one of the wandering elves", said Legolas with much interest.

"Yes, she has told us that she is one of the Dark Elves, and that she has come from the unknown lands beyond the Grey Mountains", Aragorn replied. "She dwelt for a while in your old home of Mirkwood Forest, interestingly enough, then she wandered down along the east bank of the Anduin to the Falls of Rauros, where she crossed over the River and passed into Rohan. She spent a long time in Edoras, and she and Lady Eowyn became very good friends while she was there". They came to Legolas's bedroom, which was very large with many windows, all opening onto a vast balcony laden with many flowering plants, where Legolas could feel at home whenever he came to visit.

"She is a strange one, though, Legolas", continued Aragorn, as they stopped outside the room. His voice was so low that no one could overhear him. "I have an odd feeling about her", he whispered.

Legolas pressed close to Aragorn. "In what way, 'odd'?" he whispered back.

"I find myself wondering what you two are whispering about", Arwen laughed, as she and Gimli came up behind the man and elf. "Your heads are very close together and you seem to have eyes only for each other, as you carry on your secret conversation", she said in amusement. "I will leave you with them here, Gimli, and then would you all please come down to the Great Hall as soon as you have put away your things? I will look in on the girls before I join you". Arwen then left them to see to her daughters, and swept down the hallway, her heavy robes trailing along the polished marble corridor as she walked.

Legolas and Gimli put their possessions in their separate bedrooms, while Aragorn left to prepare for dinner. "Hurry down to the dining hall as soon as you can", he said to Legolas.

After the enjoyable dinner, Legolas and Gimli were quite eager to hear the minstrel sing her songs. Everyone had talked of her at great length during the meal. Aragorn and Legolas did not have another opportunity to talk together alone, as they had been joined at dinner by a few other elf-friends of Arwen's and some official men from Aragorn's government. When pipes had been brought out for those who smoked, and wine goblets and ale tankards had been refilled, Aragorn stood up to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our guest, Lindaril, who will be entertaining us tonight with her songs".

Through the great door at the end of the hall appeared an elf-maiden. She was raven-haired, her hair even darker than that of Arwen. Her skin was porcelain-white, and her face thin, with high cheekbones and gaunt cheeks. Her eyes were huge, and dark blue in color. Her lips were red and full. She wore a crimson and purple dress of velvet, which was worn wrapped tightly around her slim figure, and was of a style very unusual, falling to just above her ankles, whereas most women's dresses fell to the floor where they pooled like drapes. On her feet she wore black sandals with no heels, which emphasized her short stature. For an elf, she was very tiny, standing just over five feet tall, whereas most elves, male and female, usually stood over six feet. Lindaril carried a small stringed instrument rather like a lute, which she began to strum. Then she sang.

Her voice was bewitching, the song haunting and enchanting. She sang a song of the forest and of the sadness dwelling there among its scanty denizens. Her next song was of a lighter sort, with a pretty, lilting melody. It spoke of brightness and color, with the tinkling melody of a brook running through a meadow. As she sang song after song in an ever-changing voice to suit the emotion that each of them wrought, her audience was transfixed. She paused after a while.

"I hope you have enjoyed my songs", she said, her speaking voice as clear as a bell. "I have enjoyed singing them for you. Now, here is something very different. This is an ancient song, handed down through the ages by my ancestors, who passed it on one by one to each other so that it would never be forgotten. It has come to me, and I am the last of my kin. I do not sing it very often, as you will soon understand. I sing it only when compelled to do so, as it speaks of a warning I do not fully understand". Then she began, without accompaniment.

"The terrible one, clothed in a shroud
Stood dark and tall, his head never bowed
He stole the jewels of the elf-prince so proud
Ran away with them hidden in a black cloud.

In the deep, dark pits of hate he bred
From stolen first-born ere they tread
The lands of earth where they were led
To live without strife, hate, or dread.

The dark one took these sweet fair souls
To suffer in his deep, black holes
Tormented with fire and burned with coals
To become monsters cruel, like underground moles.

Cursed by one who lives no more
Whose people, doomed to endless war
Whoever shall find the jewels of lore
Shall doom us all to unknown horror."

Thus ended the song of Lindaril, as her audience sat in astonished silence.