The Dwarves Treasure

Gimli grumbled to himself as he pounded the hot metal of the ax.

“Ruddy Elves. Can’t get away from them!” Gimli had spent most of the day trying to avoid Míreth. At last, he had found a place free from her constant presence, and beating the hot metal helped a great deal in relieving his frustrations. He turned quickly thinking he had heard Míreth’s footsteps.

“Now I’m hearing things!” The hammer clanged as he beat the poor metal thin. “Two months. Two months she’s been here, and of all the Dwarves in the Mountain she has to take a fancy to me!” He delivered a powerful blow to the ax blade and scowled as he saw the mess he had made of it. A choking sob sent him spinning around just in time to see the hem of a little blue gown disappearing around the door frame.

The room seemed eerily quiet as he stared at the door. Serves her right! She shouldn’t have been spying.

The hammer felt heavier than usual. Well, maybe now she won’t follow me everywhere I go.

The heat started to suffocate him. She’s just an Elf, after all. Why should I care what she thinks?

He threw the hammer down at last and hurried down the corridor in the direction the hem had disappeared. Every empty room he passed mocked him. Where did she go?

“Gimli!” He turned to see Duron coming toward him with a smile peeking out of his bushy beard. “Have you seen Míreth? I promised I would take her outside today.”

Gimli wondered if Duron saw the shame written on his face.

“N-no. I am looking for her myself.” Gimli watched Duron’s smile grow.

“Gimli, I thank you.”

I wish a balrog would swallow me whole.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You have. You’ve shown her kindness. Dralin isn’t even polite. I know she’s an Elf, but that’s no reason to be cruel to such a little one.”

Gimli saw Duron’s eyes darken. He remembered all the times he and Falen had joked about the Elf. Heat crept to his cheeks.

“I’ve got to find her, Duron. I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.” He hurried down the hall barely registering Duron’s thanks echoing down the corridor after him.

The tunnels seemed to stretch to the depths of the earth. Gimli wondered if the mountain had swallowed her whole. He paused panting in front of the entrance to the Mountain. A cool breeze wafted in to tease him. It brushed the hair on his beard and forced him to turn his glance toward the light.

“Did you see the Elf go by?” he asked Fúrin who stood guard.

“I didn’t notice, but if she did, I say good riddance.”

How can he be so cruel to her? He immediately chided himself for being just as cruel.

Ignoring the other guard’s laugh of approval, Gimli hurried out into the bright sunlight.

“Míreth!” His voice echoed tauntingly around him.

“Míreth!” The leaves whispered jeeringly.

“Míreth! I’m sorry.” The chirping birds cackled at him and a light thump arrested his attention. To the right, Míreth stood underneath a gnarled tree whose branches swept the ground.

“Míreth! There you are.” He hurried over to her and winced as she drew away.

“Míreth, I’m truly sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. Can we start over?” He held out his hand and waited. The tear tracks on her cheeks accused him. Her glistening blue eyes convicted him. The slump of her shoulders condemned him, but redemption finally came in the form of a small white hand placed in his large calloused one.

“Start over,” she whispered. Gimli heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps Elves had some good qualities after all.

#

Tunnon sat by the fire watching the dancing, grateful Legolas had not thought of some further form of torture to keep him from enjoying the merriment. Apparently, the Prince had run out of fletchings to ruin, and he couldn’t possibly have run all the horses through the mud in the last twenty minutes. Having time to watch the whirling skirts and joyful music kept Tunnon’s mind off of the darkness surrounding him.

“Come, Tunnon. You should be enjoying the dancing.”

“I enjoy it even if I do not participate in it.”

“You will disappoint the ellith.” Legolas inclined his head toward a group of ellith waiting to be asked to dance.

“I do not wish to dance tonight, Legolas.”

“You should marry before you fade, my friend. You seem too sullen of late.”

“And of course that has nothing to do with fletching arrows from dawn ‘til dusk.”

Legolas laughed and Tunnon joined in the levity before he continued his thought.

“My mate is not in Mirkwood. Just as yours is not.”

“Perhaps you are both too old for mates?” Galion pointed to them with his goblet.

“You jest, my butler friend. Tunnon and I are destined for great things; that is our hindrance.”

“I am destined to become the master of fletchings.” Tunnon inclined his head to Legolas and Galion laughed heartily.

“Perhaps we should travel more. Lord Elrond enjoys my company.” Legolas looked off into the forest as though seeing something Tunnon did not.

“I have always wished to see Rivendell,” Tunnon said thinking of traveling to the valley. I wonder what Imladris is like?

“Then it is settled. We will seek our mates in Lord Elrond’s fair valley.”

Tunnon laughed again imagining Legolas dancing with the Rivendell ellith. He wondered if Legolas would ever remain serious long enough to find a mate.

“Until then, if you will not dance you must give us a song,” Legolas said, grinning.

Tunnon practically groaned as Legolas pulled him to the center of the group and announced Tunnon as the next entertainment.

I should have known he would find a way to torture me this evening.

#

Elrond stood staring out over the valley thinking of the day’s events. The young man had reacted well upon learning of his heritage. Seeing Estel grown to manhood had pleased him greatly. Could hope have come to men at last? It almost made up for the tragedy that had befallen soon after. He should have expected it. Idhrenion’s mother had taken the news of her son’s death badly. Watching her fade had been almost more than he could bear. Idhrenion’s brother seemed close to following his mother’s example. Elrond sighed, thinking of the time he had spent reminding Taenmoron of his own family and his responsibility to them. In the end, his diligence had paid off.

A gentle breeze caressed his brow. It carried the sweet smell of roses, a perfume to calm a weary mind. The moonlight wrapped its arms around him. The sound of laughter drifted up to his balcony, and he leaned over to see what merriment had occurred in his gardens.

Aragorn walked arm in arm with Arwen both of them smiling and laughing. The laughter and smiles did not disturb the Elrond near as much as the light in Aragorn’s eyes. He had seen similar lights before. They usually whispered of a forthcoming binding.

Was Aragorn falling in love with her?

Some of the passion of his youth rose up, demanding he rush down and part them before a possibility could become a fact. He took another calming breath and chided himself for his assumptions.

The moon rose slowly in the sky, recalling happier times—his marriage to Celebrian, the birth of the twins and Arwen, his care for the heirs of Isildur. Each memory bore the stain of sorrow. Will she stay with him?

He watched as they bid one another good night, and Arwen made her way to her rooms.

Aragorn turned from the beauty before him, the light still shining clear in his eyes.

I will watch him. Perhaps it is only an infatuation. Elrond made his way down the long hall, ignoring the beautiful architecture, and knocked lightly on the door.

“Ada!” Arwen opened the door with a smile and threw her arms around him. It has been too long since I watched the sunrise with my daughter.







A/N: Thanks to Neume for all your help on this story.