Disclaimer: They do not belong to me and I can only hope that I will be forgiven for misusing Tolkien’s world for my own amusement…

A Matter of Honor

By Cat

Night had already fallen hours ago as Gimli, son of Gloin made his way back to the house close to the palace where the fellowship lived in during their stay in the white city of Gondor. The war of the ring was over and Aragorn had finally wed Arwen, daughter of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.

Many feasts were held in this time of hard won peace and the members of the fellowship could be seen attending many of them. Tonight the hobbits had left soon, leaving Gimli to the task of retelling their adventures for the umpteenth time. Legolas had not joined at all and Gimli suspected him to be outside of town somewhere, no doubt close to some of his beloved trees. Living in this city of stone did not sit well with the elf.

The house was dark as Gimli entered, his steps relatively quiet despite the amount of ale he had drunk to moisten his throat during his long tale. He found the way to the room he shared with Legolas in the dark without problems. A lamp turned low was burning in the room, emitting just enough light to make out contours in the dark. Gimli closed the door behind him and cast a glance towards the bed close to the window. The elf did not need sleep they way mortals did and so many nights his bed stayed empty while he wandered under the stars, doing whatever elves did while sane people slept. As expected the bed was empty and Gimli turned up the light. Sitting down on his bed he took of his boots and with a content sigh he let himself fall backwards on the bed. The meal had been good and the ale even better. After the hardship of the last year things like that were appreciated even more.

He must have dozed of for when a strange sound woke him the lamp was still burning, filling the room with its flickering light. Upon hearing the sound again Gimli sat up, a frown appearing on his face. It sounded like steps outside of this room, but slow and heavy. Not the step of a hobbit or an elf.

Silently the dwarf got to his feet and stepped closer to the door, listening intently. Another of this steps, seemingly coming closer. Moving fast Gimli got hold of his axe, preparing to face whoever dared to intrude this house.

He listened again and as soon as another sound told him the position of the person outside he slammed open the door and raised his axe, attacking with a speed one would not have expected from him.

His opponent reacted quickly but not quick enough and found himself forced against the wall, a cry of pain escaping him and the sharp blade of the axe threateningly pressed against his throat. Gimli froze the moment he made out the face in the dim light and lowered his axe. So it had been the step of an elf after all.

‘Legolas! What possesses you to trample through the house like an oliphant? Have you lost that elven ability to walk silently?’

‘I beg your forgiveness, friend Gimli, I did not mean to wake you.’ The elf answered softly, reminding the dwarf to lower his voice.

With a shake of his head Gimli let him go, stepping away from him. Legolas was wrapped tightly in his cloak and made no move, his breathing sounding slightly labored. Something seemed not right with him.

‘I never heard an elf making so much noise.’ Gimli grumbled. A sudden idea formed and he stepped closer again, to take a better look at his friend.

‘Are you drunk?’

A short laugh escaped Legolas ending in something similar to a gasp.

‘No, Gimli I am not.’ He straightened and took a few steps, passing the dwarf and entering the room. Gimli watched quietly, a frown on his face. The elf’s movement were far from his usual easy grace. He followed him into the room, closing the door once more and returning his axe to its resting place. Then his eyes returned to his friend.

He was sitting on his bed now, his cloak still wrapped around him. But in the light of the room the dark bruise and the dried blood on his face was plainly to see and sudden understanding dawned on Gimli.

‘You are hurt.’

The elf did not deny it, simply looking back at him for a moment. His face seemed much too pale.

‘What happened?’

The elf shook his head.

‘I do not wish to speak of it.’

With a frown Gimli looked at him, trying to read the look in his wide eyes. Pain he could easily detect as well as a certain determination and he decided to let the matter rest for now.

‘What is it that you can not tell me after waking me in the middle of the night? Have you fallen of a tree?’

But Legolas did not raise to his bait.

‘Return to sleep, my friend, I do not wish to keep you from your rest.’ Was all he said, his hand moving towards the lamp to turn it down. The light dimmed and the room fell into near darkness.

Slightly angry at being dismissed like that Gimli settled down on his bed again. He found himself listening to the rustle of cloth as Legolas laid down, his eyes wandering to the other bed. The sight he could make out in the dim light shocked him deeply.

Ever since he had known Legolas he had never seen him sleep in another position than laying on his back, his hands resting on his chest. But now he could see him resting on his side.

He rose again, his fingers finding the lamp, turning it up once more. He stepped to Legolas side, looking down on him. To his surprise the elf’s eyes were vacant, his breathing slow and even. He had fallen asleep in this few moments.

For a few seconds Gimli only gazed at him, wondering at the strange sight. Then he reached out a tentative hand, tugging away the cloak that was still draped over his frend. His face grow darker as he noticed the bruising on Legolas’ forearms, looking like dark fingerprints on the pale skin. Taking a step closer he leaned over to take a look at the elf’s back, wondering what might cause him to sleep in this unusual position.

He froze, a look of dark anger crossing his face. He could not believe what he saw. The light silver tunic was torn to shreds and soaked with blood. The patches of skin visible were covered with welts and dried blood. The elf had been whipped.

He took a step back, immense anger welling up. He considered Legolas a friend and a good one. To see him harmed like that was more than his temper could take. Placing his hand on Legolas’ shoulder that seemed to be free of welts he gently shook him, careful to not inflict further pain.

‘Legolas.’

He watched as awareness slowly returned, much slower than usual. Maybe sleeping was part of the elven healing. Why had Legolas not said that he had been attacked, surely not even his stubborn pride would go so far as hiding injuries like this?

‘Legolas?’

‘Mhhm.’

Not the most eloquent answer but a sign he was awake. The dark eyes focused on Gimli and Legolas moved to sit up. With a moan he sank back as the movement jarred at his wounds and pain shot through him, making him dizzy.

‘Crazy elf.’ Gimli grumbled, hiding the stab of compassion he felt at his friends obvious pain. ‘You should not move.’

‘Thanks for pointing this out to me.’ Legolas weakly responded. Part of him was relieved he had not to hide this from his friend any longer, part of him dreaded what was to come.

‘Who did this?’ Gimli demanded.

‘I can not tell you.’

‘You can not or you will not?’ the dwarf asked, his voice harsh.

No answer came and he gave his friend a grim smile.

‘I know not why you tried to hide this and hold back who did it. But I know that you have been hurt badly. I will get a healer.’

A hand grasped his arm as he turned away and he stopped, looking at his friend’s pale face.

‘No, Gimli, I do not need a healer. I do not wish for anybody to know what happened.’

‘I do not understand. You have been attacked and hurt, right here in the White City of Gondor. At least Aragorn should know.’

Legolas closed his eyes, trying to find the words to convince his friend.

‘It is Aragorn I do not wish to know of this. But trust me my friend if I say the matter is not settled yet. I was taken unaware and in no fair fight and I will seek retribution for that.’

Although his voice was weak and full of pain there was a glimmer in his eyes that made Gimli belief him without doubt. He knew him after all, knew his pride and his skills as a fighter. Whoever had done this would be sorry.

A grim smile played around Legolas’ lips for a moment and his next words echoed Gimli’s thoughts.

‘They will be sorry that they did not kill me when they had the chance.’

‘But your wounds need to be tended. I will resign to call a healer and do it myself if you can bring yourself to tell me the whole story.’

He knew the dwarf well enough to know this was the most he could get from him. So Legolas did not hesitate to agree.

‘If you promise to not tell either Aragorn nor Arwen I will tell you.’

Gimli nodded, satisfied with this answer. Then he left Legolas’ bedside to collect warm water and clean sheets to use them as bandages.

After removing the cloak he helped Legolas to lay down on his stomach, noticing the slight trembling and the draining of any color from his face. It was a task he that he would have wished for anyone else to do as he tried to be as gentle as he could, but removing the torn clothing sticking to the encrusted welts on the elf’s back could not be done without causing pain. He could feel every tensing of the slender body, every wince. Many of the wounds broke open again and blood flowed freely. Finally the last shred was removed.

The whipping had been severe and Gimli needed to get clean water several times before he had cleaned away dirt and blood to his satisfaction.

He tried hard not to hear the hisses of pain and low moans coming from his friend as he worked. His anger was burning at the damage done but his fingers were gentle and careful.

He helped the elf into a sitting position once more to wrap his torso in bandages.

Legolas finally rested on his stomach again and Gimli went to dispose of the bloody water and cloths. When he returned he stepped to his friends bedside. With surprise he noticed the vacant stare in the dark eyes and sighed.

‘I guess I will need to wait a little while longer to hear your story my friend.’

Pulling up the sheets he covered the still body with them and returned to his own bed. But sleep eluded him as he listened to the even breathing of the elf, wondering who could have any reason to hurt him like this.

@@@

Morning finally dawned and Gimli gave up on his trying to sleep. Too many questions kept running through his mind and the only one to answer them was deeply asleep.

He silently left the room making his way to the room where they took their meals in. A young woman was already preparing breakfast, looking in surprise at the early riser. The only one who ever came in so early was usually the elf.

Gimli hardly noticed her, sitting down at the large table. She quickly put a plate in front of him, filled with fresh bread, sausages and bacon, knowing by now what he liked to eat.

For a moment he stared at the plate then gave her a friendly smile.

As soon as Gimli had finished his breakfast he grew restless, feeling the need to check up on Legolas again. He waited until the young women left the room to get fresh water before he grabbed the plate filled with fruits and berries waiting for the elf and quietly left the room again.

Legolas was still asleep and he put the plate next to the lamp on the small table between their beds. Settling down on his own again he resigned himself to wait.

Slowly life began to stir outside as well as inside the house. He could hear the soft step of hobbit feet making their way towards breakfast.

Laughter echoed through the house but did not help to lift the dwarf’s dark mood. Finally he could hear the soft sound of stirring from the other bed and sat up straighter, watching intently as Legolas started to move.

The elf slowly struggled into a sitting position, a wince of pain crossing his face. The bruise on his face had slightly faded to a bluish color. Their eyes met and Legolas smiled softly at his friend.

‘How do you fare, my friend?’ Gimli asked, concern barley concealed in his voice.

‘Better, Gimli, much better.’ The elf answered.

‘I will check your back once more, to make sure it is healing properly.’ The dwarf announced and his tone did not allow any contradiction. And Legolas stayed still as strong fingers undid the bandages covering his torso.

Last night Gimli’s main concern had been focused on his friend’s back but now in the light of day he noticed the bruises covering Legolas’ stomach and chest. For a short moment an expression of utter rage crossed his face and he looked up at Legolas who met his eyes with his usual calmness. Nothing betrayed the elf’s emotions and Gimli turned his eyes back to his task.

Once more he was astonished at the healing abilities of the elves. The wounds inflicted on Legolas’ back that would have caused a mortal to be bedridden for days had already started to heal nicely. But it still looked painful and sudden movement might rip it open again.

Gimli stepped back, his eyes roaming over his friend’s body.

‘You look great.’ He sighed, shaking his head. ‘I would really like to know who managed to do this to you.’

Sudden anger flared in Legolas’ eyes.

‘I told you it was no fair fight! I was taken unaware and by more than one!’

He got to his feet angrily, the sudden movement bringing on a sudden wave of nausea. A strong grip on his arm forced him down to sit on the bed and he looked up into dark eyes, burning with anger and concern.

‘Crazy elf, do you think I do not know this? I merely wish to know who. And why this was done to you.’

A bitter smile played around the elf’s lip.

‘Why? Do you wish to know why? Because I am an elf, that is why. Because some men wished to show me their superior strength. Because they wished to prove they can best an elf.’

His words shocked Gimli beyond belief. He stared at his friend not sure he had heard correctly.

With a sigh Legolas let go of his anger, closing his eyes for a moment. His back hurt as well as the bruises covering his torso.

‘I promised you to tell you the story and I will. But I wish to clean myself up first.’

Gimli nodded in understanding, his mind still reeling. He told his friend to wait and went to get warm water once more.

While Legolas washed with slow, painful movements Gimli sat on his bed, watching quietly. He noticed the elf slightly swaying on his feet still weakened by loss of blood and pain. Finally he broke the silence, his need to know winning over his restraint.

‘Who, Legolas?’

For a moment the elf froze before he answered without tuning.

‘Do you not already know?’

And a suspicion that had been there at the back of his mind became certainty as he watched his friend gingerly move back to his bed and sit down again, pain evident on his fair face. And the dwarf made a silent vow that the one responsible for this would not get away with it as he walked over to his friend to wrap him in bandages once more.

* two days earlier *

The wedding had been beautiful and would be remembered for years to come. The union between the King of Gondor and the daughter of the Lord of Rivendell was welcomed by many but not all. Elves were looked at with wonder and adoration for they were fair beyond the measurement of men. They were immortal and therefore older and wiser than any man could ever hope to become. But this also evoked the bitter feeling of resentment in some, for they had what a mere man could never reach. That one of them should forsake her immortality to be bound to a mortal filled most with awe at the deep love this showed. But some were filled with distrust and anger that the King of Gondor would not choose a mortal to share his life but an elf. As if mortals were not good enough.

And so it came that among the soldiers of Gondor some expressed their deep aversion against the firstborn even as the whole city was alive with celebrating at the night of the wedding. They stood outside a tavern, beer mugs in their hands and not quite sober anymore.

‘They did not aid us in our fight against the dark Lord but stood by and watched as our men were killed and our lands destroyed!’

The man who spoke with deep hatred in his eyes was tall and dark, a warrior since he had been a boy. Bethrol was his name and he had seen many men die in his life and it had hardened him.

‘Yet they are welcomed and celebrated as if they themselves had defeated Sauron. Only three of them did ever join our forces and I for myself have not seen them fight.’ He continued and the men around him nodded their agreement.

‘An elven witch she is, our new Queen and bewitched is our King.’ He spat not noticing the sudden silence that had settled over his companions. But the sudden feeling of cold steel against his neck made him freeze and his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

‘Do you care to repeat this?’ a soft voice spoke in his ear. He did not dare to move any part of his body but his eyes and they met blazing dark ones in a pale face framed by golden hair.

The steel of the blade was pressed a little bit harder against his neck.

‘No one speaks of Queen Arwen like this.’ Legolas hissed. ‘I wish for you to apologize.’

Casting a quick glance around he noticed the dwarf standing there watching his companions, his axe ready. No help from this side was to be expected from the group of half drunk men.

The fact that it was an elf holding him captive like this caused a flare of anger and clouded his mind. He whirled around, somehow managing to duck away from the long knife and flung himself at Legolas. But the elf easily sidestepped him and using his advantage of speed he got a good grip on the man and slammed him into the wall face first. Holding him there he pressed the knife at his throat again.

‘Your apology?’

‘What for? She is a witch…’ his voice broke in a gasp of pain as his arm was wrenched behind his back. For some moments pride fought with reason but then the latter won out. The pain became unbearable and he could feel the determination radiating from his opponent. Fear of what the elf was capable to do to him forced the words over his lips as his cheeks started to burn with humiliation.

‘I… apologize for my rude words.’ He hissed.

The knife vanished and the hard grip left him. Turning around he met Legolas’ eyes once more, not trying to hide the hate burning in his own.

‘You will be sorry for that.’ He hissed.

With a mocking laugh the elf stepped away, returning his knife to the sheath on his belt.

‘I doubt this, man.’ He answered, contempt in his voice. ‘Defending the Queens honor is nothing to ever be sorry of.’

And with that he was gone and the dwarf with him.

Behind he left a warrior humiliated in front of his comrades and seething in rage.

**

Having finished fixing the bandages again Gimli stepped away and handed the plate of fruits to Legolas. The elf stared blankly at it, his hand trembling as he accepted it. With the pain burning through his body and the slight nausea it caused eating was the last thing he felt like doing. Carefully he placed the plate next to him on the bed.

He knew Gimli was waiting for his explanations.

He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position but found it impossible. Finally he sighed and turned his eyes to his patiently waiting friend.

Gimli listened without a word only his face becoming darker.

@ last night @

As was his custom ever since the war was over and they stayed in Minas Tirith Legolas wandered the streets at dusk to greet the first blinking of the stars outside of the cold walls of the city. The guards at the great door knew him well by know and he returned their greeting as he passed them. It was a short walk to the first outskirt of trees and he wandered there, entering the woods slowly. He felt relieved from the pressure the city had on him as it was so different to the way he was used to live. The great halls of his fathers palace were carved inside a cave but it was wide with many windows broken through the stone so the smell and sight of the outside world was not cut off. In the city of men all he could see were stone and men and all he could smell was stone and men. And the sea. He could hear the cry of gulls and it caused a burning longing in his heart to see it again.

He yearned for the smell and sounds of nature and his walks in the woods so close to the white city were something he cherished. He let his fingers trail over the bark of trees as he passed them, his head tilted to catch the first glimpse of Erändil when it showed.

Bethrol watched the elf, hate burning in his eyes. He had spent the last two days gaining information on Legolas and it had taken not long to find out about his habit to wander alone outside of town at the fall of night.

So he had hidden himself here with three of his closest companions to await the hated elf and get his revenge.

Legolas had not gone far as a warning tingling through his spine made him stop, his senses sharpening. He listened intently the dark feeling of a threat intensifying. While staying in the White City he had ceased to wear his usual weapons and only carried a long knife on his belt. He was with friends after all. But the warrior inside of him refused to go completely unprotected and he was glad for it now as his fingers curled around the hilt of his weapon. Suddenly the trees around him seemed to cry out a warning and he whirled, knife in hand to face whoever had stepped behind him.

He could make out the figure of a man standing only feet away from him, a hood drawn over his head hiding his features. His posture was not threatening and for a moment Legolas hesitated, unsure of his intentions. His refusal to attack without question proved to be his undoing as he could hear a rustling noise behind him as well as on his sides, realizing at once he was surrounded. They must have been waiting for him for he would have heard them had they followed him. He had walked into a trap and slowly turning in a circle he realized that it had closed tightly. Four man had surrounded him, two of them carrying bows with arrows notched, aiming at him.

He cursed himself for a moment. He had felt too secure here, had let his guard down.

But none to go down without a fight he gripped his knife harder, letting his eyes wander over his foes.

‘Let your knife fall!’ a voice called out to him. He had never heard it before. They all had hoods drawn, their faces hidden in the dark. He lowered his hand as if to follow the order then, almost faster then the eye could follow he turned to his left and attacked the man standing there.

But his reaction as well as his speed had been expected and the man managed to evade his blade if only barely. He stumbled and fell but got a grip on the elf’s cloak while doing so. It hindered Legolas’ escape as he found himself held back as the other three already moved after him. No arrow had been released as they did not wish to kill him. Turning he would have freed himself with one swift stroke of his knife had he not found himself facing all four of his opponents now. Being held by the tight grip on his cloak he found himself hindered to move with his usual agility as he defended himself against three swords. Bethrol was the one who had fallen and he stayed down keeping his grip upon the silky but strong material of the cloak until he could feel a strong pull as Legolas tried to break free. Then he let go suddenly. Legolas stumbled at the sudden disappearance of the grip he had fought and stumbled only for the slightest moment. But it was all that was needed as Bethrol had expected this and was on his feet in a moment, slamming the hilt of his sword into Legolas’ face.

The intense pain was blinding him for a moment and he stumbled, fighting of darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. He moved in his defense without really seeing relaying on instinct only. But the strokes done with is knife were slower and imprecise, easily to dodge for his opponents. Before he was able to refocus his eyes he found himself attacked from behind and brought down. He managed to shift and land on his back but a weight settled on his thighs pinning him down. He fought with all he had but soon his right arms got caught in a hard grip and forced over his head. Then his left arm was immobilized and he could do nothing to break their hold on him. Bucking under them and trying to dislodge the weight resting on his limps did not achieve anything but further tightening of the grip on his right arm. Finally the man holding him found a special point in his forearm and pressed it merciless. Legolas could hardly suppress a gasp of pain and against his will his fingers loosened their hold on his knife. It was wrenched from his hand and flung away.

Acknowledging the uselessness of his struggles Legolas let himself go limp in the grasp of the three man intending to save his strength for a better moment.

The man on his thighs shifted leaning over the captive. Legolas could see naught of his face but felt eyes boring into him.

‘Get him up.’ A voice hissed.

The weight left his body and he was forced to his feet. As soon as he was upright he tried to break free again. Using his free legs he kicked out at the man at his right side managing to sweep his leg away under him. He lost his balance and let go of the elf’s arm. Using his advantage Legolas tried to break free from the other man as well. Had there not been Bethrol he might have succeeded.

The man reacted instantly and was at Legolas side in a moment. Using the hilt of his sword once more he slammed it into Legolas’ unprotected abdomen.

Pain exploded and with a gasp Legolas sank to his knees, trying to curl up to lessen his agony. He heard cruel laughter from above through the thick fog that clouded his head as pain controlled all his senses. But in the back of his mind a connection was made between the voice and a face.

He had no breath left to fight as he was forced to his feet once more and dragged away, deeper into the woods. They reached a small clearing soon and stopped. The darkness was almost perfect only lightened by a torch the men had lit.

The pain in his abdomen had cooled down to a dull ache and Legolas was able to think clearly again despite the pounding of his head. Casting a quick glance around his eyes came to rest on the man who walked up to him and stood before him. The grasp on his arms lessened as they once more underestimated him and still thought him incapacitated.

One last desperate attempt made Legolas trying to break free once more. He succeeded and delivered a swift kick to the man in front of him and tried to run. But the injury to his head proved to be bad enough to slow him down considerably and he did not get further but a few steps away. Then he was seized once more and brought down face first to the ground.

Bethrol had not expected the elf to strike out once more. The kick had not brought him down but inflicted enough pain to throw him into a fit of rage. Upon seeing the elf held down he did not draw his sword but hissed .

‘Hold him down. I will teach him some respect.’

Undoing the belt around his waist he curled on end of it around his right palm and stepped closer, towering over the elf. For a moment he leaned over and undid the strap that fastened the cloak around Legolas shoulders. After ripping it away and carelessly throwing it into the dark the man raised his arm. Unleashing his pent up rage upon his defenseless victim he brought the belt down on the unprotected back with all his strength.

The pain was unexpected and Legolas gasped as it suddenly flared up. Another strike hit him and another as the man lost any restraint and control. The belt was made of leather but decorated with ornaments made of silver. It was a cruel weapon used like this.

The fourth man stood apart watching with growing horror at the scene unfolding. He had joined Bethrol to help him take his revenge on the elf for he had witnessed the humiliation the man he considered a friend had suffered. He had not expected a fair fight to go on but nothing like this. To beat someone up to teach him a lesson or to avenge an insult was one thing. But from the look of it Bethrol had lost his mind as he let blow after blow rain down on his captive.

Pain and more pain, multiplying with each new stroke landing on his back forcing gasps of pain from him. His skin had broken and blood ran freely now. The next blow evoked a harsh cry of pain that could not be held back any longer. Reality began to fade.

The young man holding the torch silently began to beg for Bethrol to stop. The fair voice he had heard once raised to a sweet song during a feast was hardly recognizable now as it cried out the elf’s agony. No one deserved anything like this.

As they felt their captive go limp the men holding him down let go of him. In the dim light the his back showed to be a mass of torn flesh and cloth. Even as they rose and stepped away Bethrol did not stop his assault.

‘He had enough. You will kill him if you continue.’

He did not seem to hear them and after a few long moments of hesitation one of them stepped closer and caught his arm as it came down once more.

Taking a deep breath Bethrol stared at his captive arm for a moment before turning burning eyes to the man that held him.

‘Why would that concern you?’ he hissed.

‘I do not wish to be involved in murdering the elf. You had your revenge.’

With that he let go and strode away, the second man following him quietly. Turning his attention back to the unmoving body on the ground Bethrol noticed the carrier of the torch kneeling at the elf’s side, his fingers searching for a pulse on his neck.

Looking up he met Bethrol’s gaze.

‘Does he still live?’ the tone as well as the fingers curling around the hilt of his sword told the young man that Bethrol did not plan to let the elf live through this.

The sudden compulsion he felt about letting him kill the elf as well as fear of the consequences made him give his answer. The elf was one of the fellowship after all, a hero as well as a friend to the king. His death would cause quite a stir and the wrath of the king was nothing he wished upon his head. It had already gone way too far. Leaving Gondor seemed like a good idea right now.

‘No. is heart does not beat anymore.’

‘A pity.’ The mocking voice made him feel sick as he cast one last glace at their victim, meeting his pain dulled eyes for one brief moment. Then he rose to follow Bethrol who had turned and strode away into the dark.

At the sound of their retreating footsteps Legolas finally let go on his tentative hold to consciousnesses and slipped into darkness free of pain.

Hours later he woke to find his healing abilities had started to do their work as he was able to get to his feet. Wrapping himself in his cloak to hide his injuries he slowly and painfully made his way back to the gates. How many times he needed to stop and sit down to fight off a wave of nausea and weakness he could not say. How he managed to pass the guards without drawing attention and how he made his way back to the house he could hardly remember.

@ @

‘So he thinks you dead. ’ Gimli’s voice broke the silence that had fallen after Legolas had finished his tale. His face had paled during listening and his eyes were dark, radiating with something the elf had never seen before in his friend.

‘That will make things easier. You have recognized his voice? It is the same man we encountered two nights ago?’

He had gotten to his feet as he spoke and seized his axe, stroking its sharp blade with an unreadable expression on his face.

‘Yes the voice was the same.’ the elf gazed at him, a question in his eyes.

‘You said you do no wish Aragorn to know. Why is this so? A king should know what is happening in his own city.’

The elf sighed and shook his head.

‘Have you forgotten how this man insulted Arwen? I do not wish her to know about this. Hard enough it is for her to live in a city of men now even without the knowledge that some despise her for what she is. I would not add to her burden. To tell Aragorn would force him to keep it from her and this I doubt he will be able to do for long. She will learn soon enough that she is not appreciated by all men and it will be a bitter experience for her. But she must not know of this incident.’

The dwarf stayed quiet for some time, thinking. True he himself had wondered about this before. He knew how this city effected Legolas and he had asked himself how the Lady Arwen would be able to live here. Knowing Rivendell, the beauty and wide open of the valley he knew that Minas Tirith had to feel like a prison to the elven Queen. And men were a peculiar race. Indeed, her love for Aragorn had to be great for her to accept all this.

‘I understand.’ He finally said and he meant it. If Legolas wished to spare her the pain of knowing what was said about her, so be it. ‘I still believe Aragorn should know but I will respect your wish.’

The elf nodded, relief shining in his eyes. He felt drained despite his unusual long sleep and felt he would have lacked the energy to argue with Gimli. The matter resolved he settled down on his stomach clenching his teeth at the sharp pain the movement evoked.

‘Is there anything you need?’ the dwarf asked still concerned for his friend. He knew Legolas was healing and would be recovered soon but seeing the lines of pain on the fair face made him wish he could do anything more to help.

‘Nay, my friend. I thank you for your aid last night. All I need is some more rest and I will be fine.’ He smiled at Gimli and the dwarf accepted it. Satisfied that food and water were here should Legolas desire any he turned to leave the room.

‘I will leave you to rest now.’ He said and was about to open the door and step outside when he heard his name called out with sudden sharpness. Surprised he turned back and found Legolas’ narrowed eyes directed at him.

‘Pray tell me, my friend, where you suddenly feel the need to go to and take your axe with you?’ A suspicion had formed in Legolas mind and he stared hard at the dwarf.

Gimli returned his look calmly a strange fire burning in his eyes.

‘It might be of aid if I meet a certain someone.’

‘I sincerely hope you do not have in mind to go looking for that certain someone.’ The elf stated in a low voice, his eyes suddenly hard.

‘What else do you expect me to do?’ Gimli yelled, his anger and frustration breaking through. ‘This man will not get away with what he has done to you. I will not allow it.’

‘It is not your place to avenge what was done to me, my friend. This is a matter of honor to be settled between he and I. Believe me if I tell you that I will not hesitate to seek retribution as soon as my wounds are healed.’

It was the look that had entered his eyes and the tone of his voice that reminded Gimli of the elf’s pride. He had been ambushed and attacked in the most appalling way and there was no doubt that he would yearn to seek retaliation. And as much a Gimli wished to lay his axe on the neck of the man who had done this he had to admit that his friend was right. It was not his place.

Upon the dwarf’s silence Legolas started to rise, bent on stopping him.

‘If you can not give me your word that you will not touch him ere I had my chance I will not let you go out there alone.’ He stated in a determined voice.

Gimli quickly hurried to his side and pressed him back on the bed with a strong hand on his shoulder.

‘Do not worry, you stubborn elf, I will abide to your wish. What he did to you was without honor and not fitting a warrior but a wild animal. As such he should be treated but I will not interfere as you are the one who was hurt.’

At once the body beneath his hand relaxed.

‘I thank you, Gimli.’ Legolas mumbled, weariness washing over him.

As Gimli took a step back from his bed he could already see the eyes of the elf go vacant as he slipped into his elven dreams. With a shake of his head Gimli turned away One moment he was riled up and ready to jump out of bed, the next he was lost in sleep. He would never understand elves.

@@@

It had not been easy and cost Gimli all his patience and some rounds of ale but at the end of the afternoon he knew the name of the man Legolas and he had encountered two nights ago.

Returning to the tavern he had quickly found that he was not recognized there. Some ale quickly loosened the tongues of guests and bartender and with some clever questions Gimli was soon told the story of the warrior that had been attacked right outside of the tavern only two nights ago. It was amazing how much it differed from his own remembrance of what had occurred but he had no trouble in finding out the name of said warrior. Then Gimli quickly turned the attention to another subject as he told a story of his own. Finally taking his leave before someone would enter who might recognize him he left the tavern with a breath of relieve.

He returned to the house and was surprised to find Legolas up and moving around. He had replaced his soiled leggings with fresh light blue ones and was in the process of removing his bandages.

‘What are you doing?’ the dwarf’s voice boomed. The elf turned to him raising one eyebrow.

‘Dressing?’

‘What for? Do you need to change clothes now before entering that strange world of dreams you walk in when you do what passes as sleeping for elves?’

‘I do not intend to go to sleep my friend. The talks given at a feast might not be the most interesting but unlike you my friend I manage to stay awake through them.’

‘You only say this because no one would be able to tell the difference.’ Gimli retorted. Then his eyes narrowed as the meaning of Legolas’ words sank in.

‘You mean to attend the feast tonight?’

‘Of course. It is the first invitation of the royal couple since the wedding. It would be most rude not to come.’

Legolas had finished taking of the bandages. Gimli could see the still ugly wounds that covered his back. Even for an elf it would take some time to heal up completely. He shook his head.

‘If you wish to hide your condition from Aragorn it would be wiser to avoid meeting him. Even I can see that you are not well and he is a healer. He will notice.’

‘You forget he is newly wed. He will only have eyes for his beautiful wife. And even if he notices he will think another reason for it.’

‘The sea longing? May it affect an elf that much? You are pale, my friend, and you are in pain.’

Legolas smiled at him, hearing the concern in his voice. He had noticed the look of compassion in Gimli’s eyes as he caught sight of his back.

‘Do not worry for it is much better already. I have some herbs that relieve the pain and I will not stay at the feast for long. But not attending at all would be an insult as it is the first feast hosted by the Queen of Gondor.’

With this words Legolas slipped into a tunic and finished his outfit with a dark robe of silken material, its color dark enough to hide stains of blood if one of the welts on his back should break open. The bruise on his face was almost faded and would hopefully not been commented on. The bruises on his forearms were hidden by the wide arms of the robe.

Checking quickly Gimli noticed Legolas had eaten the plate of fruits and found himself relieved by that. He knew the elf’s eating habits very well by now. If he ate he had to feel better.

‘You might be recognized. They think you death and if they find out you are still alive they might try to attack you again.’

Gimli finally voiced his main concern. The thought brought fear to the dwarf’s heart. Maybe he should have told Aragorn after all.

The elf’s features darkened.

‘If they wish to try it again, they shall. I made the mistake of letting own my guard once but I will not repeat it. If they choose to affront me it will spare me the trouble to find them.’ He spat and for the first time Gimli realized the anger boiling in the usually calm elf. A smile crossed his face as he thought of those who would come to feel the full wrath of Legolas Greenleaf. It would not be a pretty thing to watch and he would enjoy it fully. But some fear still remained for an arrow fired in the dark might prove deadly and could hardly been avoided even by the keen senses of an elf. He would stay close to Legolas he vowed to himself.

@@@

The feast began as Legolas had predicted with a number of long talks. Many people had been invited and it seemed that almost everyone of them had something to say to greet the new Queen of Gondor with sweet and flattering words. Lord Elrond was the last one to speak and he had mercy on the hungry group of people and kept his words short.

Legolas help up remarkably well Gimli noticed. He was paler than usual but otherwise appeared normal. He seemed to have spoken the truth about feeling better for the lines of pain had gone from his face. As the food arrived Gimli found himself relaxing for the first time since the night before, maybe due to the ale and the happy company of the hobbits that held the places next to them.

After the meal music played and people danced and mingled in conversation. Gandalf joined them and Gimli noticed the sharp look he gave Legolas. But what ever he saw he choose not to comment on it. The sons of Elrond approached Legolas and Gimli found himself dragged away by Merry to get a happily drunk Pippin out of a hairy situation as he had started flirting with the wrong Lady. They managed to calm the jealous husband but the next time Gimli’s eyes wandered through the room he could not find Legolas. Elladan and Elrohir he could make out talking to their sister but a certain golden haired elf had disappeared.

‘He left only minutes ago.’ Gandalf’s voice made him almost jump. His dark eyes bored into Gimli’s and the dwarf could not help the feeling that the old wizard knew.

Fear started to nag at his heart again that his friend might be in danger and the happy and relaxed mood of the evening quickly faded. Looking around he wondered for a brief moment if his exit would be noticed but he knew disappearing without taking his leave from the King and Queen was out of question. He could not breach etiquette like this without causing suspicion and insulting his hosts.

He managed to make his way to Aragorn and Arwen but they refused to simply let him go.

‘Just Legolas and now you, master Gimli.’ Arwen said, dismay in her voice. ‘Is this feast not to your liking? If you find something amiss just tell me.’

‘It is not that my Lady.’ The dwarf bowed. ‘I do not know about the elf but I fear I did attend too many feasts in too short a time. I beg your forgiveness for my rudeness in leaving so early but I hope sincerely to meet you again soon.’

She smiled at him and for a moment her beauty could compare to the Lady Galadriel. Her brothers exchanged a strange look as they listened to the dwarf’s excuse. Elrohir opened his mouth but ere he could speak a short shake of the head from his brother made him stop. He remained quiet as they watched Gimli leave but turned to Elladan as soon as the dwarf was out of sight.

@@@

The house was dark and Gimli knew the instant he entered that no one was there. His feeling was confirmed as he entered their room. Legolas’ robe was thrown over his bed and a quick check showed his bow and quiver were still there but his twin knifes were missing. A curse escaped Gimli at this and he felt anger welling up. That stupid elf was somewhere out there with his wounds hardly healed. He deeply regretted sharing the information he had gained with Legolas as he felt anger slowly mixing with fear. His heart clenched at the thought of what might befall his friend. He was an excellent fighter but still wounded and no one knew how many opponents he would come to face. His heart heavy with worry Gimli left again turning quick strides into the direction of the tavern where all this had begun.

He never noticed the shadows following him in the dark.

Legolas used the moment of distraction as Gimli was dragged away by Merry and excused himself from the sons of Elrond to make his escape. It saved him from answering Elrohir’s question as to how he had come to sport a bruise on his face. He hardly noticed the twins following him as he made his way through the crowded room towards Aragorn and Arwen. Taking his leave from them was not as easy as he had hoped. The man grabbed his forearm, unknowingly putting pressure on the healing bruises there.

‘Is all well with you, Legolas?’ he asked, concern coloring his voice. His sharp eyes wandered over Legolas’ face but he did not comment on what he saw there.

‘I will be, my friend.’ Legolas answered softly. ‘If the Lady Arwen allows it I would like to retire now.’ He smiled at her and added ‘I will meet you tomorrow to see what I can do about your garden.’

A smile lit her face as he remembered the promise he had given her. The palace gardens was filled with many trees and plants but the war and dark times proceeding it had left their signs even there. Arwen had asked the wood elf if he could help her to return it to its former beauty.

As Legolas had expected did his friends attribute his paleness and anything else they noticed about him to the sea longing that had gotten hold of the Mirkwood elf ever since he had seen the sea for the first time. So no more questions were asked and Legolas could leave. Casting a last glance across the room to make sure Gimli was still occupied he met Gandalf’s eyes. For a moment he felt frozen as if the wizard could look right into his soul. He quickly averted his eyes and turned away leaving the room.

His reason for slipping away without wanting the dwarf to know was not only his wish for retribution. Ever since Gimli had told him about the information he had gained and the way he had succeeded in doing so the elf had realized that his friend was also in danger. If he was thought dead than Gimli was the only who presented a danger to Bethrol as he had been witness to their first encounter. He had been lucky at his return to the tavern that he had not been recognized.

Legolas knew he could not wait any longer before Gimli got even more involved than he already was. Of course the dwarf would not agree with this and so Legolas slipped away silently to avoid the argument that would ensue if Gimli found out what he planned.

He reached the house and took of his robe throwing it on his bed. His knifes were ready and he strapped them on his back ignoring the pain caused by the pressure on his back. His wrist guards finished his outfit and only minutes after he had stepped into the room he left again disappearing into the dark.

@@@

Bethrol glowered at his companions. They were standing outside the tavern as was their custom almost every evening. But tonight there was no easy joking and laughing going on between them.

‘I will not run away like a coward. The elf has not even been missed yet as far as I know. If you wish to leave, then go but I will stay here.’

‘You will not leave ere I had words with you.’ A cold voice sounded from behind them. All four of them turned at once, hands reaching for their swords.

The expressions on their faces could have been comical but Legolas’ mood was far from laughing. The shock, guilt and even fear he could read in their features told him they were indeed the men he was looking for.

‘There is a matter to settle between us.’

His appearance as well as the reaction of the four men was starting to draw attention from others standing close to them.

‘I would call it a matter of honor, but I doubt you even know the meaning of this word. I ask for retribution. But contrary to you I will give you a fair chance to fight.’ The elf spat.

His words evoked a murmur going through the men around them.

Looking around Bethrol noticed that too many people had heard the elf’s words. The word ‘fight’ had captivated their attention and a crowd was already starting to form around them. There was no other way as to accept the elf’s challenge.

It was fear that made the first of the four men step forward to meet the challenge. He was one of the two that had held Legolas down and he feared the consequences of his doing should it ever be known to the king. The people around them backed away to give them room for what was to come.

He draw his sword and faced his opponent who stood calmly, no weapon in his hands. The memory of the state the elf had been in only the night encouraged him that this fight would not be hard to win.

He moved into attack, not waiting for Legolas to draw a weapon. Seconds later he knew he had widely overestimated his own chances in this fight as the elf draw both knifes in the blink of an eye and countered his move.

The fight did not take long.

With awe the people around them watched as Legolas easily fended off each blow of the man until he saw his chance and with one precise stroke ended the fight.

The sword clattered to the ground and with a cry of pain the man sank to his knees, clutching his arm. The elven blade had cut through his flesh and bone without resistance, severing his thump and index finger from his right hand.

No emotions played on Legolas’ face as he stepped back forgoing to take the man’s life as would have been his right. He watched as he was dragged away before he turned to the three remaining man.

Bethrol’s eyes burned with hate but the elf ignored him, his hard eyes coming to rest on the second man who had held him down.

The fight took hardly longer than the first and again it cost the looser a few fingers on his right hand.

Clenching his sword Bethrol stepped forward.

‘Now I know why you needed to be four to hold me down.’ Legolas taunted him.

Rage flared in the man’s eyes but he was a warrior and knew better than to let emotions control a fight. They circled each other, waiting for the right moment to attack.

Legolas could feel the sharp pain in his back with each breath that he took. Although he had held back in the fights until now the movements had been enough to rip open the barley healed welts again. Knowing this opponent was far more dangerous than the two before he stayed careful, watching each move of the man with utter concentration.

Bethrol knew the elf was wounded, he had gotten sight of the growing patches of blood that had started to form on his back. Not even an elf could heal that fast after all.

So he took his time, hoping to wear out his opponent.

@@@

The sound of clashing metal directed Gimli the way. His heart sank as he realized he was too late. Legolas had managed to find who he was looking for.

He pushed his way through the crowd gathered around the fighters until he could see them clearly.

The man was no match to the elf the dwarf noticed. Then he got a look at Legolas back and could feel concern well up as he saw his tunic was already drenched in blood. He must have ripped his wounds open again.

‘I told you it was not the sea longing that ailed him.’ A familiar voice behind the dwarf said.

Another just as well known answered ‘So you were right, brother. At least I have never seen this form of sea longing before.’

With a sigh Gimli closed his eyes for a moment before he turned to face the two elves standing behind him. How they had come to be here he did not know but he had to prevent them from telling Arwen or Aragorn before Legolas had a chance to talk to them.

At seeing him turn around Elladan grinned at him.

‘Master Gimli! I thought you had retired to get some rest after attending too many feasts in too short a time! What a surprise to meet you here.’

But before Gimli could answer the expression on the elf’s face turned to one of deep concern as his eyes looked over Gimli. He had seen the blood on Legolas’ clothing.

‘What is going on here?’ Elrohir asked, his face dark. He did not like what he saw.

‘Legolas is wounded?’ his eyes turned on Gimli and the dwarf nodded turning his attention back to the fight just as the man cried out in pain loosing his sword.

Before Gimli could move or call out to his friend another man stepped in front of Legolas his sword ready. Gimli immediately recognized him for who he was. Bethrol.

With growing concern Gimli watched the two opponents circle each other. It was obvious to him that the man knew Legolas was wounded and waited for the elf to tire or make a mistake. Only when he got a look at his friend’s face did he feel relieved. His face was calm but his eyes burned as they followed Bethrol’s every move. This was what he had been waiting for, this was the man who would come to feel his wrath.

When Bethrol finally attacked the elf no longer held back. His first two opponents had been easy to overcome and he had saved his strength for this fight. He moved quick as lightning and even before the man knew what had happened he had dodged his blow and made two steps that brought him behind Bethrol. He lashed out with both knives before he moved again, facing the man once more. The man flinched and the dwarf could see two blood stained gashes running across his back. A grim smile played across the dwarf’s face as he watched the elf take his revenge.

Moving with graze and speed that betrayed nothing of the pain he felt Legolas circled the man again and again adding cut after cut to the his back. Bethrol’s tries to attack the nimble elf seemed clumsy and helpless as Legolas moved way too fast for the man to land a single blow. More than once laughter arose at the sight of the man hitting air where the elf just stood while another blow landed on his back. His tunic was in shreds by now and blood running freely. Pain and humiliation added up and rage slowly began blinding Bethrol. His moves grew more furious and hasty as he started to drive into the elf without ever hitting his target.

The cuts to his back were never deep enough to seriously wound him put the pain added up as well as the loss of blood. The man started to weaken and finally Legolas moved in for the final blow. Bethrol had just turned to the left where he expected the elf to be as he appeared on his right, bringing down both knifes at once. One neatly sliced through the man’s clothing leaving on more gash across his chest while the other cut deeply into his right arm, disarming him as well as cutting through flesh and sinews, crippling him for life.

With a cry of agony the man stumbled back his eyes wide as he stared at the heavily bleeding wound.

For a moment the elf stood like frozen before he sheathed his knifes and turned away.

He had only taken two steps away from the man as a sudden sound behind him made him move to the side and whirl around even seconds before he heard the cries of warning. The dagger aimed at his heart only hit him in the left arm, the force of the impact driving him backwards. He could see Bethrol coming towards him, his face a distorted mask of agony and rage. Without thinking Legolas fingers curled around the hilt and tore the weapon out of his flesh. Faster than any eye could follow the dagger was flung back to where it had come from.

Without a sound the man collapsed as his own weapon buried itself in his throat.

Elladan and Elrohir had cried out a warning along with Gimli when they saw Bethrol draw the dagger with his left arm.

Relief almost made Gimli’s head spin when Legolas reacted with lightening speed. When the man fell, silence settled over the crowd.

For a moment Legolas’ eyes met a another pair filled with dread and fear. He remembered very well how their owner had declared him dead and thus had probably saved his life. With a short nod he turned away from the young man forgoing to claim retribution from him.

The crowd parted to let him through. The adrenaline of the fight slowly began to fade and he became fully aware of the pain in his body. A sudden hard grip on his right arm stopped him and he whirled to face another opponent.

‘Calm down, Legolas it is only I!’ Gimli took a quick step back letting go of his friend.

With a sigh of relief Legolas relaxed. Taking in his pale face and the blood running down his arm Gimli resigned from telling him his mind right now.

‘Well fought, Legolas.’ The sound of Elrohir’s musical voice caused a flicker of distress to flash in Legolas’ eyes as he turned to look at the elf.

‘I would like to know what brought this on. What business did you have with these men?’ Elladan voiced his curiosity.

But Legolas only shook his head.

‘The matter is settled. I do not wish to speak of it again.’

The sons of Elrond exchanged another look before moving to follow as Legolas turned away from them.

The pain seemed to intensify with every breath he took. He had to return to the house before his strength would leave him.

His head held high and his face not betraying what he really felt Legolas left the place of the fight. He ignored his friends as they followed him and concentrated fully on not collapsing. His right hand came up to press against the wound on his arm to slow the bleeding. He already began to feel light headed.

With a frown on his face Gimli walked behind his friend. He noticed the wound on Legolas’ arm had not stopped bleeding but knew the elf’s stupid pride would not admit how weakened he was. Anger over the elf’s actions warred inside the dwarf with worry of what they might cost his friend. They were close to the house now and a short glance sideways told him the sons of Elrond were still with them, wearing identical looks of concern on their fair faces.

It was hard to miss that Legolas had started to falter slightly and his steps had lost some of their certainty. But using all his will power he managed to stay on his feet until he had reached the house. Once inside he grabbed onto the wall for support as he made his way into his room. A sigh of relief escaped him as he could finally sit down on his bed.

Gimli’s fingers found the lamp in the near dark and turned it up to bath the room in its flickering light.

Legolas cast a weary glance at the dwarf and elves that had followed him.

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ he asked with a strained but slightly sarcastic voice as he found them all staring at him.

It was too much for Gimli and the anger he had managed to control until now flared up.

‘Maybe, you stupid elf, you could tell me what possessed you to go looking for a fight in the state you are in? I did not spent last night cleaning your wounds for you to go and get them ripped open again!’

Dark eyes wide with pain met Gimli’s and his words trailed off as he noticed them drifting out of focus. He reacted instantly but Elrohir moved even faster than him and his arms caught Legolas as he sank forward. He gently lowered him to rest on his side while Elladan placed Legolas’ legs on the bed. His eyes already started to blink open again as he recovered from the sudden wave of nausea. His try to move was stopped by the dwarf’s gruff voice.

‘Stay down there before you fall again. Next time we might just let you lay there on the ground.’

Elrohir’s eyes had taken in the wound that still oozed blood. No words were needed between the brothers as he cast a short glance at Elladan. The elf quietly turned and left the room.

Elrohir removed the wrist guard from Legolas left arm noticing the fading bruises that had been hidden underneath. Removing the right one next he found matching bruises there but his face betrayed nothing of what he thought. The time to find answers to the questions forming in his minds would come later.

‘Do you have any healing herbs?’ Elrohir directed his query at Gimli but it was Legolas who answered.

‘In my bag.’

His voice sounded strained and weak to Gimli’s ears and the dwarf moved quickly to get Elrohir what he needed.

Elrohir did not want to move the wounded elf again so he used a dagger to cut away the blood drenched sleeve from Legolas’ arm.

Gimli showed him the small collection of herbs he had found in Legolas’ bag. It was not much but it would do.

Elladan returned to them carrying a bowl with warm water and some clean rags.

Legolas hissed in pain as the wound was cleaned, his eyes tightly shut. With concern Gimli notices his face had lost any color by now and his breathing came in shallow gulps.

Satisfied that the wound was clean Elrohir selected two leafs and dipped them into the water for a moment before covering the wound with them. It evoked another hiss from Legolas as the sharp sting of pain brought tears to his eyes.

But the herbs worked their magic and the bleeding finally stopped. With a heavy heart Gimli realized that he would not have been able to help Legolas had the sons of Elrond not been here. The elf might have bled to death.

Elrohir dressed the wound and carefully lowered the arm to rest across Legolas chest when he was finished. Then he turned silver-gray eyes on Gimli.

‘How bad is the wound on his back?’ he asked.

Elladan had left to replace the bloody water with fresh one, knowing his brother was not finished with tending to Legolas.

‘It is not a pretty sight.’ The dwarf answered and the expression of worry and compassion in his eyes as he looked down at the ashen face of his friend told Elrohir as much as his words.

‘If you could help me to turn him on his stomach.’ He quietly asked.

‘I can do this on my own.’ Legolas intervened and slowly moved the upper part of his body. Gimli quickly reached out and assisted him by gently moving his wounded arm out of the way to prevent him from laying down on it.

An unreadable expression crossed Elrohir’s face as he got his first good look at his back. The amount of blood worried him and he quickly started to cut away the tunic once more to get a look at the wound.

Gimli had not removed his grip from Legolas arm and he could feel the tensing up of the slender body. At the first try to pull of the silken material that stuck to his back Legolas cried out softly. The pain was immense and in his weakened state he did not have the strength to suppress the sound of distress.

Elrohir stopped as he saw the amount of pain the blonde elf was in. His nimble fingers once more searched through the dried leafs Gimli had laid out on the table until he found what he was looking for. On the table a pitcher with water and cups were placed and he filled one of them halfway. He pulverized a leaf between his fingers and mixed it with the water.

Then he handed the cup to Gimli.

‘Let him drink this.’

Legolas accepted the cup without resistance, moving just enough to be able to bring it to his lips. His hand was shaking but he managed to swallow the bitter liquid without spilling it.

Elladan returned with fresh water as Gimli took the cup from Legolas’ trembling fingers.

The herb took effect quickly and they could see the slight body relax as the pain was numbed. Elrohir retook his place on Legolas’ side to try again to remove the bloody tunic. Gimli’s hands reached out to carefully brush away strands of golden hair from Legolas’ back.

To Gimli his wounds did look no better than they had the night before. Whatever healing had taken place had been undone by the elf’s movements and skin that had just healed over had been torn open again.

It was a gruesome sight and Elrohir’s breath caught for a moment as he took in fully the damage inflicted. A sound of dismay from behind him gave evidence to Elladan’s shock.

‘Has this been the reason for the fight?’ he asked his eyes turning on Gimli. ‘Has he been attacked like this by the men he fought with tonight?’

The dwarf only nodded while he grabbed for a clean rag and immersed it into the water. He squashed it before he began to clean the elf’s back from blood relieved as no further questions came. He could fell the body tremble under his ministrations and tried his best to not inflict further pain.

Seeing the gentleness with witch the dwarf treated Legolas, Elrohir let him continue his task and turned to mixing herbs with water that would eased the pain and speed up the healing process.

Having cleaned away the blood as well as possible Gimli finally stepped aside to let Elrohir further tend to his friend. Legolas’ dark eyes seemed wide in the pale face and Gimli noticed them slowly drifting out of focus as the herb started to take full effect.

‘How did this happen?’ he could hear Elladan ask. The elf had stepped next to his brother and watched as Elrohir applied the paste he had prepared.

A sudden noise relieved Gimli from giving an answer as the door to the room was flung open. Gimli whirled around, his eyes searching for his axe.

Two guardsman bearing the colors of Gondor stepped in, their eyes sweeping over the room.

‘They are here.’ One of them called out.

Elrohir did not look up from his task, only a slight tensing up of his body telling that he had even noticed anything going on. Elladan moved to stand beside Gimli to face the intruders just as the two guardsmen stepped aside to make room for another man.

Aragorn’s face was set in a grim mask and his eyes held as dark an expression as Gimli had never seen directed at himself by the king of Gondor.

@@@

Legolas had almost drifted into sleep when the sudden noise of the men entering the room jerked him fully awake again. Upon seeing Aragorn a wave of panic welled up. The strong effect of the herb slowed his reactions and his movements were sluggish as he struggled to sit up. Only Elrohir’s strong grip on his shoulder prevented his from sinking down again and helped him into a sitting position.

Aragorn’s eyes had swept quickly over the room. Seeing Elladan standing next to Gimli, facing him took him by surprise although his face betrayed nothing. The dwarf’s protective stance shielded his view from what was going on behind him but he could make out the dark haired head of Elrohir. Only when Legolas sat up did he see the elf and his eyes came to rest on his pale face.

‘Legolas?’ his voice was calm but carried a tone of commanding he had never used on his friend before. With a sinking feeling Gimli realized the King of Gondor was furious.

Even though a thick fog seemed to have settled over Legolas’ mind and he had distinctive troubles to focus his eyes he straightened at being addressed in this manner. The pain in his back and arm evoked by his movements seemed far away as he concentrated on Aragorn noticing the dark look in the man’s eyes. A part of his mind had expected this, after all he had killed a man of Gondor. This was not a matter to be ignored although he had hoped not to be forced to deal with Aragorn so quickly.

‘Strange news have been brought to my ears, Legolas. It seems that you have been seen fighting and killing a soldier of Gondor.’

‘He had his reasons, Aragorn!’ Gimli cried out.

‘I wish to speak to Legolas, Gimli.’ Aragorn dismissed him with a hard look. He turned his attention back to Legolas taking in the too pale face and the bandage around his arm. He did not miss the grip Elrohir kept on him as if he was afraid the elf would not be able to stay upright on his own.

‘I wish to know how you came to kill one of my man.’ Aragorn insisted. He had been informed of the death of Bethrol and at hearing who was responsible for it confusion as well as anger had filled him. He had been concerned for the elf’s well being when Legolas had taken his early leave from the festivity only to find out what exactly he had been doing. He felt wronged by Legolas’ behavior and could not shake a feeling of betrayal. And he wondered what could drive the usually calm and stoic elf to a fight of live or death on the streets of Minas Tirith in the dark of the night.

With a sigh of defeat Legolas gave in to the realization that he would not be able to hide this from Aragorn any longer. He had tried but with killing Bethrol he had lost the possibility to keep what had happened a secret from the King of Gondor. A small part of him had always doubted that he should succeed in leaving Aragorn unaware.

‘I challenged him.’ He answered his voice soft but steady. ‘to seek retribution.’

Elrohir could feel Legolas leaning ever more against him. He could see the other elf was fighting against the effect of the herb he had given him and was quickly loosing.

The answer was not exactly what Aragorn had expected. A frown appeared on his face.

‘Retribution? What for?’

Legolas could feel his body would not obey him for much longer as his eyes drifted out of focus again.

‘Gimli?’ he whispered and the dwarf moved quickly to his friend’s side. He noticed the elf was almost asleep as he caught his mumbled words. ’You may tell him now.’

The dwarf quickly grabbed for his friend when he went limp and helped Elrohir to lower him to rest on his stomach again, making him comfortable the best they could.

It was then that Aragorn’s eyes came to rest on the torn and bloody back of the elf and all color drained from his face. Quick strides brought him to the bed’s side and he stared down at his friend while Elrohir calmly retook his task of applying the paste of healing herbs to the worst of the cuts and welts.

Questioning eyes turned on Gimli who held the King’s gaze unwavering.

‘What happened Gimli? And why was I not informed of this?’

The dwarf envied Legolas greatly in this moment for his perfect timing of falling asleep. Having been released from his promise the task of telling the king what had transpired fell to him now. He did not look forward to Aragorn’s reaction to what he was about to hear.

Keeping his words short he told about their first meeting with Bethrol. His eyes strayed to the sons of Elrond as he repeated the words the man had spoken regarding Arwen. He could very well remember Legolas’ enraged reaction and wondered how her brothers would respond to hearing them. They said no word but he could see the hardening of their features, the narrowing of their eyes and the cold light that shone in their gaze.

Aragorn did not show any reaction at all but a slight narrowing of his eyes.

‘Why was I not informed?’ he repeated his earlier query as Gimli paused trying to find words to describe what had happened to Legolas the night before.

Gimli’s eyes flickered to Legolas.

‘Not out of menace or lack of care.’ The dwarf replied. ‘But out of over protectiveness. The elf did not wish for Arwen to know what was said about her. And neither did he wish her to know the price he paid for defending her.’

He retold what Legolas had told him in the morning and no one spoke until he had finished his tale. The dark anger had lessened in Aragorn’s eyes but it had not gone completely and another expression had mixed with it, something that Gimli could not read.

‘Folly it was to try and keep this from me.’ He said, his voice harsh. ‘Do you really think I would not know the weakness of men? That I do not know the resentment and envy that some of them carry in their hearts for those who have what they may never reach?’

He shook his head at their foolishness.

‘At least you Gimli should have had the sense to tell me when Legolas did not.’

‘He only wanted to protect Arwen.’ The dwarf protested, defending his friend’s actions.

‘A noble deed, but he should have at least told me. It is not his place to decide what I should know or not if it concerns matters of my kingdom. Did he think I would not be able to control and judge my men that he had to go and seek retribution on his own?’ Anger had returned to his voice and Gimli could feel his own temper starting to flare again.

‘I did not agree with his actions as they resulted in getting him hurt again, but I understand why he did it.’ Gimli said. ‘His pride would not allow him to hide behind your back and let you cast judgment for the wrong done to him. He is a warrior, my friend, and he would not sit and watch as another fights his battles. He did nothing he did not have the right to do.’

A sudden thought struck Gimli. His regard of men had been severely damaged during the last days and he wondered what exactly Aragorn had been told.

‘He did not kill this man in cold blood if this is what you think. It was a fair fight until Bethrol broke the rules. He was already disarmed and had clearly lost the fight when he attacked Legolas from behind. The elf did nothing but protect his own life.’

The king raised on hand to calm the dwarf.

‘I know Gimli, I know. I did not mean to accuse Legolas and no one else did so either. I was informed about the circumstances that led to Bethrol’s death. One thing I wonder though: you said it had been four men that attacked him but from what I have been told he challenged only three. What about the fourth?’

Gimli shrugged for he did not know the answer to that. He himself had only witnessed Legolas fight two men.

‘He said one of them had probably saved his life by declaring him dead. Maybe that was enough for him to forgo seeking retribution from this man.’ The sound of his voice told that the dwarf did not agree with this. In his eyes none of the four had earned forgiveness for what had been done to his friend.

Elrohir had finished and stepped away from the wounded elf, cleaning his hands in the bowl of water.

‘He needs rest.’ He calmly said casting a meaningful look at Aragorn. The king nodded in return gesturing to Gimli to follow him as he left the room. Elladan joined them but Elrohir stayed behind his concern directed at the sleeping elf. He knew his brother would tell him everything he learned.

Aragorn left the room and the house, stepping into the cool darkness of the night. The two guardsmen kept themselves in the background forgotten by the three friends that stood together in silence.

‘What do you say, master dwarf,’ Aragorn finally asked. ‘is the matter settled for you?’

‘For Legolas it might be, for he defended his honor in a most impressive way. I doubt that those he bested tonight will ever forget this lesson. Alas, for me… I must confess that I still feel a itching to use my axe.’ Gimli confessed.

Aragorn only nodded.

‘Then I wish for you to accompany me. Legolas has had his revenge but what has been done to a honored friend of Gondor, to one of the nine walkers that helped save Middle Earth from the powers of evil can not be ignored and left without further consequences.’

‘Then I will go and get my axe.’ The dwarf answered a dangerous gleam appearing in his eyes. Before Aragorn could say anything the dwarf had returned to the house to do as he had said. Meeting Elladan’s eyes Aragorn let out a sigh.

‘Why do I feel like I just lost control again?’ the man asked wryly.

‘Maybe because you did?’ the elf answered, amusement in his voice. ‘I only hope for you that you will be able to voice your judgment before the dwarf carries it out.’

‘So you will accompany us?’

‘I would not want to miss this.’ The elf’s cheerful voice did nothing to ease Aragorn’s mind. For being the King of Gondor he felt very much overruled by his friends, he observed.

Gimli returned, his axe in his hand and a look of anticipation on his face.

‘I am ready.’ He announced.

‘I bet you are.’ Aragorn mumbled earning him a snicker from Elladan and a raised eyebrow from Gimli. With another sigh he turned and led the way.

@@@

The city was dark and quiet as one man, one dwarf and one elf made their way through the vacant streets. The two guardsmen followed somewhere behind, feeling utterly needless.

Neither Gimli nor Elladan asked Aragorn where they were going as he led them through his city. It took the dwarf not long to guess their destination and his guess was confirmed as they followed Aragorn to the house of healing.

The king of Gondor had no trouble finding the right room and the healer that resided inside took only one look at them before he hurried outside.

The two men laying on beds in the room had similar expressions of apprehension and fear on their faces as they looked at them. Both of them struggled to sit up, the thick bandages on their right arms hindering their movements.

‘Your Highness?’ one of them whispered but was completely ignored.

Aragorn’s gold gaze swept over both of them and finally came to rest on the unmoving form on a third bed.

‘Is this Bethrol?’ he addressed Gimli.

Two steps brought the dwarf close enough to answer the king’s question.

‘Aye. He looks quiet dead to me. A pity, for he will not be able to taste my axe any more.’

If possible the two men on their beds paled even more upon hearing Gimli’s cold voice.

The king turned his attention to the two men, regarding them with a dark look.

‘Is there anything you have to say?’ his voice was not loud but held enough authority to let them flinch.

They exchanged a quick look, and it was clear that none of them wished to speak up.

‘It had been brought to my ears that you did participate on the attack on Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thandruil of Mirkwood. An attack of the most cowardly kind as it took four of you to overwhelm him. You tormented him and left him for dead.’

The king paused, his gaze resting heavily on them. ‘Is there naught you wish to say regarding these accusations?’

‘I did not mean to get him killed.’ One of the men cried out. ‘It was only intended as a warning.’

‘A warning?’ Gimli’s voice boomed as his temper flared upon hearing this words. ‘You call this a warning? Maybe I should warn you a little bit…’

‘Peace, Gimli.’ Aragorn interrupted the dwarf’s tirade before it could get out of hand. The dwarf fell silent but his eyes shot glares at the man that had shrunk away at his outburst.

Inside Aragorn seethed just as much as the dwarf but being the king meant keeping a certain detachment even if this concerned one of his best friends.

‘Your name?’ Aragorn’s voice was devoid of emotion and somehow this was even scarier than the dwarf’s visible anger.

‘Lian.’ The man answered.

Aragorn’s eyes turned to the second man and he answered the unvoiced question quickly.

‘Surdim.’

‘I offer you one last chance to answer my question. Is there anything you wish to say?’

It was then that Lian found all of his courage to face his king.

‘I can not deny what has been done or my part in it. I swear it was neither my intention for Prince Legolas to get hurt the way he was nor to get him killed. That was Bethrol’s doing.’

‘It was you who held him down.’ Gimli hissed. ‘You helped and you can not place the guilt on a dead man.’

Silence fell as the man did not respond to this. He averted his eyes, looking down on his bandaged hand.

‘If the Prince of Mirkwood had lost his life then Gondor would face dire consequences.’ Aragorn said, his face grave. ‘You do know who his father is?’

A reluctant nod from both men answered this question.

‘I can not even begin to understand what would possess anyone to act the way you did.’

He paused and they waited, apprehension in their eyes for his judgment.

Legolas has already demanded and received his retribution and for him the matter is settled.’

A sound of disagreement from Gimli was ignored as Aragorn continued.

‘He choose not to take your life during fight and so I will not demand it either. But I do not wish to count people like you to my men. You have lost your status as warriors and you are to leave this city and this land within two hours to never return. If I ever see your faces again I will not hesitate to carry out what Legolas did not.’

Dismay formed on their faces for leaving Gondor to never return seemed a fate devoid of any hope to them. Imprisonment they had expected but not to be exiled from their land. They would loose anything they possessed and the wounds they carried would restrict their abilities to fight as well as carrying out work.

The king did not regard them any further as he turned to leave. With growing apprehension they noticed that neither the dwarf nor the elf made any movement to follow him.

There was a dangerous gleam in Gimli’s eyes as he observed the two men that had participated in the attack on his friend. Seeing the fear in their eyes was a small satisfaction as he thought of the pain his friend had gone through.

He eyed them minutely while his hands played with his axe as if to decide with part of their body to chop first.

‘What do you think, master elf,’ he finally asked. ‘Would it be more fun to relieve them of a leg or of an arm?’

Elladan was not short of an answer. ‘I would say it would be more convenient to take the arm or they would have trouble to leave within the two hours the king has given them.’

He paused for a moment before he added.

‘And if they do not leave their punishment would be death and the pain of loosing a leg too short lived. Nay, master Gimli I would vote for the arm.’

Panic started to show on their faces. The words uttered in a conversational tone struck fear in their hearts as they had little doubt about the dwarf’s intention to carry out his threat.

Gimli nodded slowly as if considering the words. Once more his eyes swept over their bodies as if choosing the right place to aim his axe at.

‘But maybe some toes?’ he asked. ‘Not enough that they would loose their ability to walk… just a little bit.’

‘If you are careful. They might bleed to death if you hit the wrong spot.’

‘Aye, that would lessen the fun, you are right, master elf.’

Gimli stepped closer to the man called Lian who shrank away as far as he could.

‘You would not.’ He whispered hoarsely.

Fire flared in the dwarf’s eyes.

‘Why should I not? You held him down, did you not? You watched as he was beaten. Why should I feel pity when you did not?’

His axe was ready in his hands.

‘The arm, you said, master elf? We will need to bind their wounds ere they bleed to death.’

‘We can call the healer.’ Elladan answered, his voice unaffected. ‘When we are done.’

Gimli’s eyes turned to the second man who has scrambled to his feet, backing away from them

‘Which one would you like to start with?’ the dwarf asked Elladan.

Looking from one to the other the elf shrugged.

‘It matters not. Maybe one of them wishes to volunteer?’ he commented.

Both man had backed away from them as far as possible by now. Elladan had moved to block the door and the windows the room held were too small for a grown man to escape this way.

‘Well,’ Gimli asked, a grim smile on his face. The friendly tone of his voice only heightened the impression of madness he projected. ‘Does one of you volunteer to go first?’

It came as no surprise that none of the two men answered his question.

@@@

The house was quiet as Elrohir retook his seat on the second bed after checking on Legolas once more. The elf was deeply asleep.

Listening to the even breathing of his friend the son of Elrond pondered at the strange friendship between Gimli and Legolas. It had been more than obvious that the dwarf had been deeply concerned for his friend’s well being. So different they seemed to be and yet they had found to have so much in common.

What worried Elrohir was Legolas’ attachment to the dwarf. Friendships like this with a bond so deep could only end in pain for the immortal. For the day would come when Gimli would perish and the pain would be Legolas’ to bear.

He settled down into a more comfortable position as he wondered how exactly Gimli was going to avenge what had been done to Legolas. A smile played around his lips as he could easily picture the dwarf handling his axe and striking terror in the hearts of those who had dared to cross his path.

‘Well if none of you volunteers I will have to choose.’ The lightness of his tone belied the dark look in his eyes as Gimli’s eyes wandered from one man to the other.

He had been waiting far too long for this moment for it was not in the dwarf’s nature to keep his temper under control. He was going to enjoy this as much as he could. He was not one to normally enjoy another one’s pain or fear but remembering the sight of Legolas, beaten and in pain was enough to set his blood boiling.

For a moment he remembered how the elf had reacted to the threat against Gimli when they had met the riders of Rohan.

‘He stands not alone.’ His words directed at Eomer had been then.

Well, he would teach these men that Legolas did not either.

Elladan only smiled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He had been surprised at the deep concern Gimli had shown on Legolas’ behalf. Their bond of friendship had not gone unnoticed by the son’s of Elrond but only now they became fully aware of it’s depth.

The elf had not forgotten that an insult towards his sister had started all this and that alone would have been enough for him to stand by the dwarf’s side. But Legolas also was a friend to him and so he did not only understand but even share the rage Gimli felt.

He stood tall and proud and a cold smile played around his lips as he coolly regarded the men.

It was Lian that Gimli finally advanced on, his axe ready in his hand.

The man of Gondor found himself unable to back away any further and upon seeing the dwarf getting closer, an expression of determination on his face a surge of fear went through him. He had faced many opponents in his life but none of them had seemed to be so full of hatred towards him. He was wounded and weakened by pain and loss of blood but he was a warrior and so he did the only thing left he could do. Drawing a small dagger, the only weapon he still carried, with his left hand, he flung himself at the dwarf hoping to gain a moment of surprise. It was a move born out of desperation for he knew that without the use of his right arm he hardly held a chance to best Gimli.

The dwarf had expected a move like this and easily sidestepped the attack. Using the blunt side of his axe he countered with a hard blow. Despite his earlier words the dwarf did not aim to maim or kill. He hit the man’s right shoulder hard and Lian stumbled back against the wall again. But despite the hot pain flaring through his body a flicker of hope shown in his eyes for a brief moment for he had noticed the dwarf’s restraint. Had Gimli used his axe the way he usually did his threat of relieving him of an arm would have found fulfillment.

Hope died quickly again as Gimli moved in on him and he found himself at the receiving end of a very angry dwarf’s axe. Even as he resigned himself from hitting the man with the sharp blade Gimli’s blows could still inflict quite some damage for the dwarf did not pull his strength. Lian brought up his dagger and pushed himself away from the wall towards the dwarf. He could avoid Gimli’s second blow to land on his left forearm but with the axe hit his dagger and the impact knocked his only weapon from his fingers.

For a moment he could see the door leading out of this room no longer blocked by Elladan who had become engaged in a fight of his own and the thought to simply give up and run flickered briefly in his mind. But he doubted that the dwarf w