Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Nothing Gold Can Stay	By : TAFKAB Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 5309 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
They departed Laketown as they had come. When they reached the shore clouds were beginning to gather and a mist rose from the lake to shroud the land, but Gimli knew the way.

Except for the river path, a long and difficult road where goods ascended and descended along the course of the water in cars lifted by pulleys, the foothills of Erebor were a trackless waste of barren stone. The pleasant woods from the days of Thrain, often spoken of by Gimli’s father, had long been scoured away by dragon fire. Left unguided, only a dwarf could decipher the trackless labyrinth and find the shortest path across the ridge that rose to Ravenhill. While it would take an army a day to ascend through endless winding valleys and sheer ravines along the River Running to reach Dale, a hardy dwarf might make the climb straight over the ridge-tops and travel all the way to Erebor’s gate in less than four hours.

Gimli sought for subtle carved signs that marked their turnings, tracing the path with ease. It was forbidden to speak of them to other races, but he remembered the elf’s words when he was injured and the white quartz that had guided Gimli to safety beneath the canopy of the lightless wood.

“Should you find yourself alone and wandering here, seek at the base of the stones for runes. The one with two tall lines and a shorter slanted line midway between them will lead you safely back toward the docks. Others….” Gimli cleared his throat harshly. “Others will not.” He held the elf’s gaze sternly, ensuring his companion did not miss the significance of his warning. Should the elf try to climb alone to Erebor, the false runes carved to lead spies astray would turn him toward precipices or other perils. Those secrets Gimli would keep.

They made Dale after three hours of strenuous climbing, the fog growing so thick about them Legolas was forced to keep his hand on Gimli’s shoulder so they would not be parted. As they neared the city, halos of light caught in the mist and marked glowing torches on the walls. Gimli followed the path straight to the gate.

“I am a son of Mahal. Open the gates!” He tapped at the knocker, signaling himself a dwarf of Durin’s line. A peephole slid open in the sally port, and a dwarf stared out at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“You are strangely clad, for a dwarf. Is it Gimli? It is. Have you been released by the leaf-eating swine, or have you fled your part in the king’s bargain?” His eyes narrowed, suspicious. “And who is with you? An elf?”

“I was he you call Gimli. I have come for neither purpose you mention, but urgent business is afoot. Where is Tharkûn? We were told he is within the mountain. I ask entry here on behalf of my master.” The word tasted awkward and bitter, and he sensed the elf give a small start at hearing it spoken. “He is Legolas, son of Thranduil, prince of the Woodland Realm.”

The dwarf spat to one side, glowering at Gimli. “Wait without until the clouds lift, when we may see you!”

“Let us in at once, so we may send for the wizard! It is a matter that requires haste.” Legolas bent to glare through the peephole, imperious, and met with a violent oath. Gimli shoved him away, exasperated.

“That is not the way of bargaining with a dwarf,” he muttered. “You will have us sent back to Esgaroth with our purpose wasted and arrows bouncing at our heels!” The price of entry had just risen from silver to gold, he knew. A goodly portion, too.

“Open the portal, and I will buy you an ale,” he tried to wheedle. “The color of my gold is good.” He fumbled in his pouch and blinked. It was good indeed; Legolas had not been miserly. His purse held gold and silver coins in plenty. He held up a fat golden coin, pinching it so the dwarf could see how his thumbnail marked the metal.

“You are lost to Erebor, and I should not see you,” the warden growled.

“I do business on my master’s behalf. This will buy ale and more for all the gate-guardians when your shift ends.” He had placed the dwarf now. They had played at dice in a tavern once when Glóin had business in Dale. “Come, Austri, son of Arn. You know me. We two travelers are alone, and our errand is no threat to any here. I daresay Thorin would be glad to see us lead the wizard away. If I have led an army of elves to this place, may Durin blast my beard!”

The gold spoke louder than Gimli’s tongue. Austri grumbled, but when Gimli added a second thick coin, at last he swung open the sally port—opening only the lower half, so Legolas was forced to bend his head to enter.

Gimli passed over the promised coins, but did not close his pouch, letting Austri see the promise of more. “How best might we reach the wizard?” He asked, keeping his tone idle, but jingling the coins. The elf had the sense to keep his mouth silent. He stood nearby, looming over Austri, an implicit threat. The elf kept his expression so austere Gimli might have mistaken the son for the father, if only Legolas wore a crown.

“You must go to the lord mayor. He will see to your lodging.” Austri directed his answer to the elf, his glare hostile. “Then if he chooses, he may send word to the mountain.”

“Indeed.” Legolas took Gimli’s pouch from him, his voice was crisp with frost. “Direct me there at once!” He snapped his fingers sharply at Gimli.

Austri growled low in his throat and Gimli felt his own hackles rise, for all the elf had warned him to expect such treatment. He passed over a third coin. “This way,” Gimli managed to growl between clenched teeth. Legolas followed him past the gate into Dale, so silent Gimli might almost have imagined he had vanished, if not for the amazed and outraged looks they gathered.

“Dori’s residence is on the far end of town,” Gimli kept his voice neutral, as close as he could come to submission. “It houses the gate from the city to Erebor. None pass through without his approval.” Legolas nodded. When they passed through a close alley where they would not be seen, he wordlessly returned Gimli’s money pouch to him.

it was none too soon. News of their arrival spread through the streets like wildfire, with numerous muttering men and dwarves turning out to see them pass. When they finally made their way through the press to the north end of the city, Dori was already waiting, standing on the stair of his palatial house, wearing rich fur-trimmed robes and the silver fillet that marked his rank.

His eyes fell on Gimli and rested there. Though he did not move, Gimli could see him stiffen, his expression going wooden with guilt and wrath.

Gimli advanced, halting at the lowest step. Legolas followed and stood close behind him.

“Speak for me, servant.” He made his voice sound bored.

A wise choice, Gimli acknowledged to himself, grudging. The elf had a particular skill for insulting dwarves, whether he willed it or no.

“Greetings, lord Mayor, from Legolas, son of Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.” Gimli bowed low. He would not name himself before his kin. To them, he was as one dead until his term had passed. He must efface himself as much as he could, serving as a mouthpiece for his master and no more. “Rumor has reached my ears that the wizard is within the mountain. I desire speech with him over a matter of the utmost urgency. I would proceed within to seek him—” it was as mild a request as he could dare make it, considering the source— “or failing that, I would have word sent to him that I wait without and desire his counsel.”

“What matter is so pressing it prompts you to dare ask admission to Erebor, son of Thranduil?” Dori was practically vibrating with anger, but Gimli knew he dare not speak his wrath openly, lest the supplies of food and medicine be halted.

Still, his question broached a delicate matter: the pride of the elves. Gimli hesitated. This was rather less easy ground to negotiate. If he revealed too much, the consequences might be as terrible as they would if Dori lost his temper. He would not have Thranduil rescind his aid in a fit of pique.

Legolas spoke himself, his voice a bored drawl. “A small company of elves was taken near Dul Guldur a moon days past. A wraith, a servant of the Necromancer, left its sign upon the battleground. Mithrandir would have great interest in knowing this, I think.”

“You mean you wish him to manage the wraith for you, so you do not have to face it yourselves!”

Legolas stared daggers at Dori, the tilt of his head the very mirror of his father. “I remember you, dwarf, with spider silk matted in your beard. You were lucky elves came to pluck you from the webs of Ungoliant’s spawn.” He let his mouth curl in a faint, contemptuous smile. “Wraiths are a simple matter for wizards, as spiders and orcs are for elves… and dragons for men, it would seem.”

Gimli closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as Dori’s face purpled with fury. His own fists were clenched, knuckles white; this haughty arrogance was all too real. Despite Legolas’s forbearance with him, he feared the elf’s speech, and his contempt, were honest.

“No elf will ever be let pass my gate to venture within the halls of the king under the mountain.” When he spoke, Dori was master of himself again. His voice was flat, all emotion absent. “Your may find an inn and wait, if you will-- if any will have you. Your news will be carried to the wizard, who may ignore it or not, as he sees fit.” His gaze seemed to touch Gimli for a split instant before he steeled himself to look away.

“See that you deliver the message at once.” Though Dori had dismissed them, Legolas managed to sound as if he were the one terminating the interview. “Come, servant.” Again he snapped his fingers, whirling on his heel to leave. Gimli trotted in his wake, seething with all the insults he wanted to shout at the elf.

Note: A comment response thread for this story can be found at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/62310-review-replies-for-nothing-gold-can-stay-by-tafkab/ !
- 13
- 14
- 15
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Nothing Gold Can Stay