Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Soulmates ❯ Not An Elf ( Chapter 5 )

The mining became habit, and the showers were fun, what with the jokes and the talking of their different cultures. All too soon, though, Legolas began to miss the whispers of the trees. He was sitting in the mess hall eating when Gimli and Glóin came up to him.

"Greetings, fundel," Glóin said with a smile. "Are you ready to leave tomorrow?"

"I am eager to get back under the moon, and to be with the trees."

"Well soon we will be in Fangorn with more trees than you can count," Gimli said happily.

"I cannot wait," Legolas said with a smile.

"There is one thing though," Glóin said. "The Dwarf lord wants to speak to you."

"As he wishes," the Elf said as he finished his dinner and stood.

They walked up to the main table and bowed low to Thorin. The Dwarf lord nodded and offered Legolas a piece of pork. Legolas took it graciously and ate it, bowing again.

"Maikhmin, zabadê," he said.

"You are quite welcome, khuthzel." Thorin paused and ate a little bit. "So, you are leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes, zabadê," Legolas replied. "We go to see the Hobbits then move on to Fangorn."

"Good. I have noticed you picking up words and phrases of Dwarvish, and this I cannot stop. But it is not enough for you. I can tell. So, I have decided to allow you to learn our tongue. Gimli and Glóin shall teach you while you are away, and once you return you shall learn from some of our best teachers."

"And I have to teach you Elvish?" Legolas guessed.

"Yes," Thorin said with a nod.

"Which form?"

"Form?"

"There is Sindarin, Telerin, Quenyan, Silvan, Avarin, and Kwendi. But Kwendi is almost dead. Though I do pretend to speak it to the trees. They understand me anyway."

"Oh, I see. What do you speak?"

"I was formally trained in everything but Kwendi. We only have songs and poems from that language, which I learned as ada asked me to."

"I see. And ada means father correct?" Thorin asked in between bites.

"Yes. Thranduil the Elven king. He is my ada. Or a'dud, I think is the Dwarven word."

"Correct. And as for those languages," the Dwarf lord said, "I believe I will learn Sindarin first. Those High Elves always talked down to me in their language and I would like to have the satisfaction of knowing their language and my own."

Legolas laughed. "First lesson. 'Iaew' is a form of scorn."

"I have most definitely heard that before," the Dwarf groused; Gimli and Glóin shifted nervously.

"Naugol means 'Dwarf.' Or…" Legolas trailed off and eyed the Dwarf lord.

"Or what?"

"Stunted people."

Instead of getting angry, Thorin III laughed. "Stunted are we?"

"I would say so," Legolas replied then frowned. "But I would also say Elves are more so."

"Oh?" Glóin, Gimli, and Thorin asked together.

"Your society is so freeing to me. Elves have all these traditions that make no sense. Yours at least are rooted in something. And they…"

"They?" Thorin asked, searching Legolas' face.

"They come more naturally to me than those of the Elves. And that should bother me. But…it doesn't. I've never really had a problem with Dwarves. I like them."

"Maybe you were right, Legolas," Glóin said gruffly. "Maybe you aren't an Elf."

Even though Legolas jokingly said that quite a bit, a part of him died at that moment, and it showed on his face. Gimli reached up and placed a hand on his friend's arm. Legolas pushed back from the table and excused himself then half ran to his room. He collapsed on his bed, placing his face into the airy softness of his pillow and screaming in agony. He had cried for five minutes when a warm weight settled beside him on the bed. Legolas reached one of his wet hands back while keeping his face buried in the pillow, searching for his friend's hand. Two firm ones clapped together around his. They stayed there in silence, Legolas drawing strength from the Dwarf. He finally sighed and sat up, wiping his cheeks with his free hand while keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Thank you, Gimli." He paused and waited for an answer, but the answer he got surprised him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, fundel. It was meant to be a jest."

"Glóin!" Legolas nearly jumped out of his skin. He jerked his hand out of Glóin's hands and blushed fiercely in the dim light. "I-I thought you were Gimli! I…I'm sorry."

"Normally I would love to see an Elf in such distress, especially a descendant of Thranduil. But you? You are different. You are kind and thoughtful, though I am guessing you have done something to my Gimli. He acts different around you."

"He does?"

"Yes. If I had a guess, I'd say you've done something that touched his heart."

"More like the other way around."

"What could a gruff Dwarf do that could touch the heart of such a fair, flighty Elf?" Glóin asked with a smile.

Legolas hesitated. Up until this point he had told nobody about what the Orcs had done to him. He hadn't told his father, his brothers, or any other Elf. Gandalf had no idea, and he was gone with the Elves, and Aragorn was off being king of Arnor and Gondor. He had also been extremely careful so that nobody saw the scars on his back. Could he trust this Dwarf? He was Gimli's father. He bit his bottom lip then shivered.

"Can I show you something?" he asked in a small voice.

Glóin grew serious. "Certainly."

"Promise not to tell anybody?"

"If I must, yes, I promise."

Legolas knelt down in front of the bed, facing Gimli's side of the room, and slowly removed his Dwarven-made shirt. He heard an intake of breath then felt strong fingers trace the healed marks running down his back. As he touched them, shudders began racing down Legolas' form. The fingers moved up to the bite on his shoulder, but only for a brief moment, for the Dwarf cried out.

"Legolas! Your hair is turning black!"

Glóin lifted the greying form onto the bed and settled him down. He ran out the door and returned in less than two minutes with Gimli, who looked horrified.

"Legolas! I haven't seen you like this since—" He stopped abruptly, glancing at Glóin.

"He saved my life," Legolas said shakily, looking at the older Dwarf with glazed eyes. "I was raped. The marks on my back aren't fading. I will permanently have the scars."

"You're an Elf," Glóin said in surprise. "You should be dead."

"Gimli saved me," the Elf replied. "And I feel as if I am dying right now."

Gimli replaced the Elf's pillow with his lap and began to sing that lovely Dwarvish song he had sung the first time he had begun dying. He sang it over and over and soon Legolas felt better. The last time the Dwarf needed to sing it, all of the tension in Legolas' body disappeared with the last note. He let out a breath and sat up. He caught a glimpse of his hair and paused. It looked as if the usual golden color of his hair was liquid, oozing down the black until none of it remained. He hummed then looked at Glóin and Gimli, who had slipped from the bed and now stood by his father.

"I am terribly sorry, Glóin," Legolas said softly. "I was unaware that that would happen."

"You are fine, lad," Glóin said kindly. "Now rest up. We have a long journey to the Shire tomorrow."

"You are coming with us?" Legolas asked in surprise.

"One more adventure before I die would be nice."

"Thank you, ada," Legolas said without thinking then started. "I mean, sir."

"Ada. I like hearing that from you. Maybe one day we can call each other a'dud and dashat."

"I would like that," Legolas said they yawned. "Good night, Glóin."

"Good night, fundel, dashat."

"Good night, a'dud," Gimli said with a nod.