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Nothing Gold Can Stay	By : TAFKAB Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 5311 -:- 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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Gimli rose early and packed his tent, preparing to ride behind Strider, who was nearly as subdued as Gandalf, the two of them mulling over whatever it was Sméagol had revealed. “What did he say, laddie?” Gimli tried as they were packing up, but Strider only shook his head with a tight smile.

“It would take long to explain, and Gandalf does not yet wish it spoken. All will be revealed in Rivendell.”

“Including the mystery of your lineage, I suppose!” Gimli clung to the saddle as Strider mounted his horse-- nowhere near so gracefully as Legolas, but it would do.

“Yes, including that.” Strider managed a bit more sincerity in his smile. “That would be hard to hide for long after we arrive.”

“Perhaps then we will have some time away from the others, so you can tell me about your lady.”

“I look forward to that.” There was the real smile; Gimli could hear it in his voice.

They rode steadily through the day, reaching the ford near mid-afternoon and halting there to survey the stage of the river.

“Here I must take my leave,” Haldir said to them all. “I will take this creature Sméagol to the Woodland Realm and persuade Thranduil’s folk to watch over him. Then I will visit your kinsmen, dwarf. Will you send any message to them?”

“Tell Glóin the dwarf known as Gimli is well and traveling with the wizard Gandalf. Other than that, there is little to say.” Gimli answered him, gruff.

Haldir clasped hands with them all, saving Legolas for last. The two elves took one another by the wrist and squeezed tightly, then embraced. “Fear not, and do as I have advised.” Haldir smiled. “I will look forward to the day we meet again, cousin.” He took his leave with Sméagol lying bound and bundled across the horse, well-tied to its saddle. They could hear the creature wailing and snarling long after Haldir vanished down the the road.

Gimli felt a flare of bitter pleasure at seeing the last of the march warden, but said nothing of his thought, not wishing to seem petty before the lady Galadriel.

“The river is high,” Strider frowned at it. “I fear the horses must swim, if we would cross without delay.”

“With winter at its height, the water may not go down for long weeks, if it does sink before summer.” Galadriel glanced about. “We should prepare for trouble before we make the attempt.”

They wrapped their gear to make it as watertight as they could, ensuring dry clothes would be ready on the opposite bank, and Gimli reluctantly removed his armor so he would not sink like a stone if he were swept away.

“You will cross with me upon Bellas,” Legolas said when Gimli was ready, and Gimli pursed his lips, agreeing with reluctance. His mail was bundled onto Strider’s horse and the rest of his gear on Gandalf’s.

Strider made the crossing first, his horse struggling against the powerful current, and he was swept far downstream before it surged onto the bank, shaking itself. He patted its neck and trotted back up to the ford, where he might shout across.

“It is a bad crossing, but we have strong beasts. They should do well enough.”

Gimli and Legolas went next.

“Hold on tightly,” Legolas admonished.

It went well at first, but then the current washed the horse’s feet from under him. Burdened by two riders, Bellas floundered, going under. Gimli found himself toppled off and swept downstream, floundering in the icy water. The shock of the cold made him gasp, and he inhaled brown water, his eyes flying open. All he could see was a maelstrom of silt and dirt tumbling around him.

His hands were torn from the elf’s belt, but Legolas’s strong hand caught in his collar. Gimli sputtered, spitting and choking as he surfaced for a brief moment, and saw the elf do likewise before they were pushed under again, the water rolling him over and over again-- that solid fist at his collar never letting go, pulling against the terrible force of the current as Legolas struggled to swim.

When he surfaced once more, lungs screaming for air, Strider was galloping alongside the river swinging a rope. He flung it toward them for Legolas to catch. Gimli felt himself go still against the dragging force of the water, the shock nearly tearing his clothes where Legolas held him fast. He groped for the elf’s wrist and caught it, then dragged himself along Legolas’s arm until he had both arms wrapped firmly about the elf's waist. That freed Legolas to pull them out hand over hand as Strider backed his horse, keeping the rope taut until they were safe on land, soaked and muddy and half-frozen.

“We were too much for one horse,” Gimli wheezed, then spat a huge quantity of water onto the ground. Without his burden, Bellas had recovered. A few ells upstream, he pulled himself ashore to shake.

Gandalf and the lady had waded out until their stirrups touched the water, but they backed away upon seeing Legolas and Gimli arrive safely on the far shore. Bellas began to wander, aimless, nosing at bushes and tufts of grass. Legolas paid him no mind.

“We must start a fire,” he barked, his hands already at work stripping Gimli’s sodden clothing from him.

“I’ll be fine,” Gimli tried to bluster, but his teeth chattered so badly he could hardly understand himself. Strider was already off his horse snatching at wood to build the wanted fire; he too was in need of warming.

Gimli sputtered protests at being bared to the cold wind-- worse still, where the lady would see!-- but Legolas quickly stripped him in spite of his cross words. The elf’s long, slender hands wrung water from Gimli’s sodden hair and beard, unraveling his braids to dry him more swiftly. Gimli glowered up at him, torn between outrage at the casual handling and misery from the cold.

The elf’s hands dove deep in Gimli’s thick beard, stripping water from the coarse hanks that had made his braids. Curse every elf ever born and reared! Gimli closed his eyes and shuddered, not entirely from cold. “And you think I have no manners?” He grumbled through clenched teeth. “Mahal’s bloody balls, elf, unhand my beard!”

Legolas jerked his hands back as if he had discovered he held live coals. “Forgive me,” he said, his mouth set in a pinched line, but he did not retreat until he had wrapped Gimli in a heavy woolen blanket, working stubbornly though not meeting his gaze.

Strider kindled a fire hastily with hands made clumsy by cold, and both he and Gimli leaned toward it with relief, rubbing their numb hands together over the flames. Gimli heard hooves squelching in the mud and glanced up to find the lady had crossed, her wet garments clinging to her slim body. Gandalf was close behind, also soaked to the skin from the waist down, but neither seemed troubled by it compared to Gimli, who flushed with embarrassment, clutching his blanket around himself as tightly as he could.

“Legolas, agorel vae,” Galadriel said. “Dry yourself now.”

She made Gimli and Strider tea with her own hands before she changed her clothing, ignoring their protests. Gimli tucked his toes under the edge of the blanket, curling them with humiliation. Legolas kept a careful distance from him, helping Gandalf pitch the tents so everyone could change into dry clothing, then bringing out cold meat from the saddlebags and serving it along with cups of wine.

Gimli could not bear to see the hurt in him, evident in his careful gestures and downcast eyes.

“Elf.” Gimli called Legolas when Galadriel had gone to her tent and life had finally returned to his fingers and toes. “I thank you for pulling me from the river.” He swallowed hard, lowering his voice to spare the lady. “It was bravely done. But touching another’s hair or beard… among dwarves, that is a privilege granted only between lovers.”

The word tasted bitter in his mouth. Lovers? How would Gimli, a lost one, ever find such? The elf would never understand, for he would have no lack of partners. Legolas was so fair he must be loved by all who saw him-- Haldir of Lórien not least among their number. Had the haughty wretch put his hands in Legolas’s hair? Had he unwoven the very braid Legolas had made in it for Gimli’s sake? Likely so. Gimli shut the thoughts away, giving them no mercy.

Legolas bowed his blond head. “Forgive me. Among elves, it may be done between members of a family… or close friends. I meant no offense by it. I did not know.”

“I suppose as the acting master of my oath, you are the nearest thing I have to family,” Gimli grunted, swallowing the last mouthful of hot tea and feeling it warm his belly. “But I will tend my own hair.”

Legolas nodded slowly, his shoulders and chin drooping. “Of course. Even were you an elf, we are not friends.”

Gimli felt Strider’s cold, damp toes sneak beneath his blanket to nudge his arse with rather more urgency than was welcome. Much persecuted, he lifted his eyes to the heavens.

“Were I free to call you friend I would,” he muttered to the elf, doing his best to ignore the sight of Gandalf stifling laughter behind his palm as he spied Strider’s move. “For none but a friend could embarrass me so, yet make me feel such remorse with only the tilt of his head."

“A modest compliment,” Strider teased gently. “Does it suffice, Legolas?”

“It will be enough, if it must.” His tone was cool, yet the corners of Legolas’s mouth curved, and his eyes shone brighter.

“It must,” Gimli grumbled. “I mean to cover myself before the lady emerges.” He retreated with the blanket flapping about his ankles, his dignity in tatters.

Once clad again, Gimli still found it hard to shake loose the chill of his dunking. He heated more water for tea as they sat around the fire, wrapping his hands around his mug.

“The High Pass will be more dangerous than the river,” Gandalf pursed his lips, frowning at their horses. “I crossed it not long ago when winter was still but a promise in the valleys. Even then, it was a terrible trial.”

“Yet we dare not wait upon spring, not with such news as we have learned. It presses on us, and every day is needed. We must finish our errands with all haste. The wraiths will not tarry to pursue the halfling, should they learn what we now know.” Galadriel said gently, but her manner was implacable.

“I am torn.” Gandalf sighed. “We might leave Strider and Gimli behind to follow later as they may, and the three of us go on before them.”

“No,” Gimli said, even as Strider glanced up with alarm. “I may not leave Legolas. If you meant for me to do so, you should have sent me to Thranduil with Haldir.”

“I will not send you to Thranduil. That is why I did not have you follow Haldir when he left us,” Gandalf told him, voice tart. “I am capable of looking ahead, as you should know, master dwarf!”

Gimli subsided, exchanging a worried glance with Strider.

“Together we will use our power to help them cross,” Galadriel told the wizard. “You can keep our company from freezing, and I will work the weather.”

“I do not like it,” Gandalf sighed. “We should keep cloaked. Any such working we do will be as a beacon to the servants of Mordor.”

“It is true. And we may have yet another foe who will see.”

“Surely he will not oppose us, my lady.” Gandalf’s breath escaped him all at once, and he bowed his head. She laid her hand upon it.

“You know as well as I: he has misled us all, and he would have us stand idle while Mordor rises. Something has bent his purpose from ours. One day we must learn how far. It is only a matter of time.”

“If he is false, this may force him to show his hand early.”

“All the better, then, for his plans will not be ripened.”

“You speak in riddles,” Legolas voiced Gimli’s thought, his voice sharp. “We are deeply concerned in this, Strider and Gimli and I. Are we not then to know the name and nature of our foes?”

“They speak of Saruman the White,” Strider said, giving Gandalf a look that mingled defiance and apology. Legolas drew a sharp breath and frowned.

“Is he not a wizard from the south?” Gimli said.

“He is,” Galadriel answered, her voice even. “Do not speak of what you hear to any others, for he has long been our ally, and he may yet prove worthy of our trust.”

“Rest well tonight if you can,” Gandalf advised. “We begin our climb to the pass tomorrow.”

“I will not rest at all knowing a wizard is against us,” Gimli grumbled to Legolas as they retreated to their tent. Bitterly Gimli reflected that with Haldir gone, it seemed Legolas once again found Gimli worthy of companionship. “The lady thinks Saruman is false.”

“I believe Gandalf thinks it too.” Legolas sank his teeth in his lip, frowning. “Perhaps I should have sent you with Haldir.”

“Tied to his saddle, a second Sméagol?” Gimli growled low in his throat. “For that is how I would have gone, if I went at all. I have no love for your father, elf.” Nor for Haldir of Lórien.

Legolas laughed softly. “I think Gandalf knows this well.” His sudden lightness passed. “Gimli, if what the lady says is true, there may be no room for love or hate or friendship, or vows of any kind except to defeat Sauron. My people have waged war against evil before, terrible war, with comrades and cities and nations alike all cast down into fire and death. We may none of us survive what is to come. Even should the battle be won, evil will surely retreat and rise again in an age or two. All that was sacrificed is lost, and the fighting must be done over again. Such is always the way of the shadow. ...You would be safer with my father than with this company.”

Gimli unrolled his bedding, grimacing to find the edges dampened by their dunking in the river. “If the shadow rises, it must be fought. Whenever and wherever evil goes, I will fight it in memory of my kin who perished at the hand of Azog at Azanulbizar, and many more before them. Dwarves do not shy from death in battle when the cause is needful.”

Legolas nodded, relieved. “Spoken like a true warrior,” he said. “I am glad we will fight together not because you have an obligation to do as I say, but because you believe it is right.” He extended his hand to clasp Gimli’s.

“Yes,” Gimli said, and took the elf’s hand, matching his grip strength for strength. “I would wish to fight this battle in any case. At your side is as good a way as any.” He took a breath. “If not better. For I think as long as we stay with Gandalf, we will be in the hottest part of the fighting, where we will be able to do the most good.”

“And encounter the most danger.” Legolas smiled. “But I think neither of us need fear with the other at his back.”

An involuntary shiver went up the dwarf’s spine as he remembered tumbling helpless in the flood of Anduin, only to be brought up short by Legolas’s hand knotting in his collar. Without the elf’s help, he might well have drowned or frozen. Perhaps he should forgive Legolas his time with Haldir.

“That is right.” He frowned and jabbed his finger against Legolas’s chest. “You have made the score even by saving me today, but I will soon surpass you.”

“But our count is not even.” Legolas’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I saved you from spiders many times!”

“The spiders are no part of this reckoning!” Gimli protested. “I had no weapon to defend myself against them!”

They argued the point until Gimli’s eyelids grew too heavy to stay open. He fell asleep listening to Legolas’s soft, breathy laughter.

Notes:

Agorel vae: You did well

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Nothing Gold Can Stay