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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.

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Legolas and Haldir trotted alongside the river together, well-matched in both speed and grace. They did not speak as they ran, but the silence felt comfortable between them. Legolas had been surprised to meet with such courtesy and welcome, and to feel such instant kinship with a Lothlórien elf-- but then, Haldir named himself Silvan. He was distant kinsman of Amroth, not one of the Noldor, and thus far less distant and dignified than the lady.

To be fair, even Galadriel had not been unkind to Legolas-- precisely the opposite, though she was an intimidating and humbling presence to be sure. Legolas felt a rustic and untutored child beside her, or indeed next to any who had seen Laurelin and Telperion in flower. And yet he liked her despite his father's many warnings against the Noldorim.

Perhaps he should stop expecting to find accuracy in any of his father's prejudices.

“Here it is.” Haldir stopped, standing atop an ice-clad boulder, staring down at the icy shore of Anduin. He leaped down lightly and picked up his whetstone from where it lay fallen in the sand at the edge of the water, half-covered by layers of ice. “Our trip is not for nothing!”

Legolas was glad they might end their detour; he did not like being so far from the company. Around them he could perceive only the empty sky, the wide plain, and the constant singing of the river, but the woods and boulders might conceal many threats.

“We may return now.” Legolas turned as Haldir picked the whetstone up and pocketed it.

“Not so swiftly, cousin.” Haldir laid a hand on Legolas’s shoulder. “I confess, I have longed to ask you much, but I did not wish to do so in company. We will walk back to camp and talk together as we go, if you like.”

Legolas agreed, a little wary. Had Haldir left the stone behind on purpose so he might draw Legolas out? Surely such artifice was unneeded.

They set forth at a walk, Haldir stepping companionably to his side. “How come you to travel with the dwarf? I do not understand your bargain.”

“My father sent food to the dwarves of Erebor in exchange for his service.” Legolas did not elaborate on the terms of the bargain, not wishing to cast Thranduil in any worse light than he must. “He gave Gimli into my care. I think he did not expect them to accept the deal, and indeed Thorin Oakenshield would not have done, but Gimli had ideas of his own. He would see his kin fed, and he offered himself to ensure it. My father had little care for the dwarf’s safekeeping, so when I chose to depart his halls, I brought Gimli with me. I offered to free him, but he will not abandon his word without my father's leave, for it would be an offense to his honor.”

“That explains much, and yet it seems strange to me, for the dwarf does not serve you-- if anything, you seem rather to serve it, taking it food and asking if it is well and letting it ride pillion upon your horse.” Haldir smiled easily, changing the subject before Legolas could protest. “You chose to depart your father’s halls?”

Legolas sighed. “I did. Against his wish.” Haldir did not merely ask for idle or malicious curiosity, he knew. Given the goal of his mission, Haldir very reasonably needed to know the size of the hornet’s nest into which he must put his arm. Embarrassing though it was, Legolas should tell him. “My father has chosen to seclude himself and our kin. He would not raid the keep at Dol Guldur after my patrol was taken, not even to see if some of my hunters survived. He would not aid the dwarves of Erebor without recompense, but would rather see them starve. He would have us fight the spiders only to our borders, and does not care if they spread elsewhere. He has not sailed into the west, and says he will not, but it seems he has abandoned the concerns of Middle Earth completely regardless. I feel he is misguided.”

“The Lady Galadriel says we may not take such a view in Lothlórien, or we will be besieged in the end, with none left to help us, and we will fall.” Haldir laid a hand on Legolas’s shoulder in sympathy. “It may be unpleasant to do what is right, but she says we must grasp the nettle now to pluck it from the earth, that flowers may bloom in its place.”

“Just so.” Legolas smiled at him, glad to be understood. “And you, did you volunteer for this duty?”

Haldir laughed. “I did not, I confess! I thought myself a poor choice to deal with dwarves, and I would have been glad to stay with my brothers, one of whom is all but named after your grandfather, Thranduilion! But the lady would have no other. As a senior march-warden, I have had more experience than others with those outsiders who try to enter the Golden Wood, I suppose-- though those are usually goblins or orcs, and the poor diplomacy they offer is answered with sword and arrow.”

“Why has the queen come with us?”

“She means to visit Lord Elrond with Mithrandir, so the three may confer together.” Haldir lowered his voice. “I believe there is growing division among the White Council. But I may not speak more clearly, for I have little information. Such things are not yet ours to know.”

Legolas accepted his words with a nod. “Indeed, so let us speak of other things. Have you knowledge of young Strider? We have traveled together since Erebor, yet I know little of his mysterious noble lineage, to which the grey wizard once alluded, and neither of them will say more.”

“That is a subject on which I can say much.” Haldir brightened. “For it was the talk of Lórien when we departed. Whispers have it the lad claimed to be the heir of Elendil and wished to make known his intention to suit the granddaughter of the queen. Galadriel said him nay until he proves himself worthy, and bestirred herself to leave with him, so she might ensure he would depart and Arwen could not accompany him. The daughter of Celebrían is willful and headstrong, I fear.”

“Elendil!” Legolas’s eyes went wide. “The blood of Númenor yet survives?”

“In that very lad, Aragorn son of Arathorn, born among the Dúnedain, the rangers of the north.”

“That would explain much,” Legolas said slowly. Indeed it did: why the wizard traveled with the lad, why Gandalf would risk a stripling in battle with a wraith, and why the lad had acquitted himself so well against their dreadful foe. He told Haldir of these things, holding back only a few of the more sensitive details-- for his own sake and for Gimli’s.

They whiled the hours of their journey in idle talk, arriving at the camp well after nightfall, just in time to hear the dwarf sing. Legolas stilled to listen, transfixed by the unexpected rich depth of Gimli’s voice. It was a small thing: a single voice, soon lost among the trees. But in the way Gimli uttered the deep and resonant song, in the way he held himself with pride, in the measured intensity of the stroke and tap of his fingers against the makeshift drum and the slow sough of his feet in the leaves, Legolas could see what the words meant to him. In the passion and power of Gimli’s voice, he could almost hear a full dwarven chorus echoing in wide caverns, a thousand others joining their voices to Gimli’s, singing for love of their forefathers and their home.

He stood still, frozen with wonder, as Gimli’s eyes found him. Then the dwarf dropped his gaze, finishing with only a few mournful notes that whispered away into silence.

The lady rose and went to Gimli before Legolas could recover. She spoke kindly to him, and his eyes glowed with pride as he answered her with such courtesy as Legolas had rarely heard, even among his own kin. But then the dwarf arose and went to his tent without speaking to Legolas, and when Legolas would have pursued Gimli to compliment his song, Haldir put his hand on Legolas’s shoulder.

“Stay with the company a while yet, Legolas. I have not heard you sing. I am sure the elves of the Greenwood have many songs to teach that are not sung in Lórien.” He smiled on Legolas, and Legolas stayed.

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Nothing Gold Can Stay