Disclaimer: All characters in this story are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.
Equilibrium
~Chapter 1: Gimli
I sit by the fire now, deep in the wilderness in search of Merry and Pippin with the two
remaining members of the Fellowship. But this quest; this journey...I am changed
somehow. Something in me is different than before. Well a lot of things, really. But oh,
how I miss my home beneath the Mountains! Sometimes I find myself thinking about the
Mines of Moria; the home of my Fathers. I keep seeing the image of Balin's tomb in my
mind. Over and over again, I see the rotted bones of my people lying forsaken on that
cold surface. The Mines had been so beautiful once, everything perfectly chiseled and
carved; the Hall's columns rising higher and higher in the sheer beauty of our
workmanship. Sometimes I can almost feel my hand against the marble floor of the Great
Hall. The others, they help take away the pain sometimes.
The Hobbits, for example. Merry and Pippin always fumbling about, badgering me; but I
love them all the same. If something were to happen to those two and we came too late,
I don't know what would become of me... They always had a smile on their face, and that
helped me, even if they never knew it. In fact, a lot of people don't know how much they
help me through hardships. It's because I always hide my feelings behind that damned
grim and expressionless facade. I cringe on the inside every time I force myself to wear
it. There's a time and a place we all hide behind; an alternate face. Is not everyone guilty
of this?
Boromir was guilty of it, as well as I. He was a proud man, putting forth all his trust in his
homeland. I don't doubt his courage and dedication; those qualities, I know, were
genuine. His heart was not full, though. I could see past him; his eyes gave it all away.
He yearns for something more than combat; as does Aragorn. But Aragorn longs for
something long past while Boromir longs for something that has yet to happen.
The Ringbearer; Frodo carries a burden I could never really comprehend, no matter how
hard I tried. His is the choice of Drahlomë: to lose himself for the sake of the world, or to
lose the world for the sake of himself. I remember when my Father first told me the story
of Drahlomë. A mere children's tale, I know; but the memory struck me when I first saw
the constant distress that Frodo carries with him. Frodo couldn't possibly find it in him to
do the latter, so ofcourse he would surrender himself to the evil and spare the rest of us.
That is what drove him to leave the Fellowship at Amon Hen; that is what will drive him
on; and in the end, that is what will drive him to victory. And Sam, bless his heart, will
drive him to insanity! Ha! That little Hobbit is a handful, but I miss him; both of them.
Ah! And then there is Legolas... At first meeting in Rivendell, I thought he would be the
end of me on this quest. But along the line somewhere, he broke down the barrier that
kept my feelings in a tall citadel within me. I couldn't hide from him anymore. Before this
blasted quest, I was as hard as stone; such is the way of my people. But now it's as if
that elf has softened me, and the once unbreakable stone of my spirit has been cracked
and water is seeping through. I know not whether this is for the better or for the worse;
but if it brings us closer it must be good. For he is the most cherished of all the
Fellowship to me. Ever since Lorien, sense has been knocked into me...or knocked out of
me. Either way, Legolas is close to my heart, and if I ever lost him like Boromir I doubt I
would ever be the same. Infact, I know I would never be the same. I'd hate to admit it;
for if I did, it would show that my Dwarven hardness has truly been cracked... but I hold
that elf closer to my heart than anyone who ever came before him. He is a companion...
and a friend.
I believe I have finally achieved the equilibrium among the rest of the Fellowship I had
hoped for. The taller of the members, Boromir and Aragorn and the rest; I had always
wanted them to see that I was no different, that my height made me no weaker and no
less of an asset to the quest than they. I didn't want them to think any less of me as
they would another Man. But Legolas has shown me that this sense of equilibrium
between us existed in his mind all along. Befriending me as he has done shows that he
harbors a certain level of respect and kinship for me, and when I feel distress come over
me, this thought always seems to comfort me.
I still remember when Aragorn spoke to Legolas and I after Boromir's departure.
"Gimli...we need you. You have an endurance that will prove vital to our journey. Have
we not been together for so long that we would abandon each other now? Nay, I dare
say not."
My victory had been reached; I was their equal, though I suppose it had been so all
along. They had accepted me as one of their companions long ago, their equals in
strength and will. I just wanted to hear it with my own ears; hearing it would lay my
mind to rest. I just hope to the Valar we don't get to those poor Hobbits too late.
~Chapter 2: Aragorn
Merry and Pippin have been captured, Frodo and Sam have abandoned hope and left for
Mordor, Boromir is dead, the Fellowship is scattered... indeed I have failed. Vain was
Gandalf's trust in me, for my leadership has proven nothing but a dream that can never
be wrought. If My Father were alive, what would he think of me now? I could not even
lead seven people; how can I hope to lead the Race of Men?
And here I rest by the fire beneath a veil of shadows the trees have made for us; I
suppose even nature has turned its back from me. Legolas and Gimli are with me, but yet
I feel utterly alone. Arwen is in Rivendell, waiting for me to reach my destiny. But how will
that happen now... what hope have I?
I draw my hope from these two companions who have been steadfast all along. Even
now they stand by me beneath the growing darkness from Mordor. And alas! it seems
another darkness gathers from Isengard. How can we fight the south and the west? But
it matters not. Now, what matters is those two Hobbits. We will not abandon them when
they need us most; I not will make my downfall of leadership an utter collapse. No, we
will rescue them. Then, atleast, I can say that I have not completely failed Gandalf. What
becomes of us after this, I know not. Our fate will be decided afterward. But I know one
fate that will not happen: Merry and Pippin's demise. I could not allow it; I will not allow
it.
I think I have achieved the equilibrium among the others I had hoped for. I remember
Elrond's expression when I chose the path of an exiled king long ago; I could almost
hear his thoughts scream out that my race was weak... I've wanted to prove that wrong
for years now; prove to everyone that Men are a strong and valiant race. I wanted
Legolas and Gimli, who I hold closer to my heart than many a thing, to realize I was no
coward.
And then it happened. On that fateful day at Amon Hen, Legolas looked at me with those
sorrowful green eyes and whispered:
"I stand with you, Aragorn. You have lead us this far; how could I forsake you now? The
better question is..why would I? I would trust you with my life, Aragorn. If you were to
fall, I would fall beside you."
And Gimli... so stubborn, so bad-tempered , but so loyal.
"Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens. You need not ask me to follow
you, Aragorn and Legolas, for I will stand beside you and nowhere else until my last
breath is spent."
There is an equilibrium between us that I could never explain or hope to understand; a
bond that holds us equal in every aspect. I never needed to prove myself to them, for
those two already knew I was strong of heart. Together, I know we can save our fallen
comrades as long as we stand together. My tracking skills, Legolas' elven sight and keen
hearing, Gimli's strong endurance... we are indeed an army of greater proportions than
even the Last Alliance. Our loyalty to eachother will hold us together, our devotion will
last us through the ages, and our love will push us onward. In this sea of trust, I would
entrust my life.
~Chapter 3: Legolas
They sit there by the fire, taking in every flare, every curve of the billowing flames. Perhaps trying to understand its rhythm, or perhaps trying to run away... Little do they know that no solace can be found in those flames; the rhythm is erratic and unstable. I understand it. I live these flames, the leaves on the trees, the morning dew every moment of my life. Such is the way of my people; such is the way of the immortal.
Now rest comes to us. As I stare out past the trees, I can’t help but turn back at my two companions by the fire, the fire they beg to take them away. They seem not to notice the other’s presence, nor do they notice mine. Lost in their thoughts, they have forgotten that doubts are for the weak. They are strong, Aragorn and Gimli. I can see it, even if they cannot. Blinded by doubts. Doubts? What can Aragorn possibly be doubting? He believes he is a failure, but by the Valar I know differently. No, if he were a failure, we would not be chasing after the Uruks. We would not be finding courage within our hearts when chaos has harshly ripped every shred from us. Boromir is lost to us now, and Aragorn cannot change that. Aragorn believes it’s his fault the warrior is dead, but Boromir was lost to us long before Amon Hen...
And then there is Gimli. That stout-hearted dwarf, if only he knew how much he meant to me. He is closer to me than any elf ever was, perhaps because of his selflessness. Elves can be the most graceful and marvelous of people, and then they can be righteous and covered in their own pride. Gimli sacrifices without hesitation, gives without a second thought, exerts all his strength and continues onward without complaint. Others may say what they will, but my belief will remain firm: that these qualities are present as strong in no other being in Middle-Earth.
Yet beneath this rock outer-layer, there is a tenderness I had never known of when I left Rivendell. And Aragorn... how my opinion of him has changed since I first met him in Mirkwood twenty years ago! I thought him -at first glance- to be a mere warrior, but when first we spoke it seemed as though wisdom poured from his lips. I still find it difficult to believe one such as he could be from the line of the traitor Isildur.
Isildur... I see it in his eyes. That name is a burden of the heaviest rock upon his shoulders, and he bears it quietly, thinking we do not see it. Little does he know his eyes betray him. I can see through his mask -what small part of it is left after the events of Amon Hen- into the depths of his soul. The guilt of Isildur’s weakness does not follow him. Aragorn does not walk in the shadow of Isildur’s mistakes. But this I cannot make him understand. No... this he must learn on his own. Nothing Gimli and I could say would wipe away that stain.
As I look at each in turn, I realize that my thoughts are reflected in their eyes. There is an equilibrium among us I had never realized before; perhaps because it was not there. Elf, man, and dwarf could sit by this fire in silence for the rest of the night, and each of us would know the other’s deepest reflections. Our understanding, our bond gives us strength. Will it be strength enough to save Merry and Pippin, I wonder. Do they wait for us alive somewhere by a fire like this one, striving for warmth?
Warmth.... the warmth of my soul.... the sea...
I see it when I close my eyes. Even as I sleep, the flowing waters flash before me. Night after night I have a reoccurring dream, though these past few nights it has greatly grown in intensity. I am standing on a cliff, and far below me are the foamy waters crashing against the rocky hillside. I take in the crisp, clean air and stare out into the vast waters. Suddenly, there is a rasping sound behind me. I slowly turn to look and a swarm of gulls come at me, forcing me off the cliff. Before I hit the waters, I wake. I fear it may be a sign of things to come, but I suppose only time will tell. May whatever stars that control my fate steer me on my course. I fear it not, though perhaps I should...
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