Chapter Text
The sun that had been glowing soft orange only an hour ago, now blazed like a yellow inferno in the summer sky. As Legolas straightened his back from his kneeling position in the newly tilled dirt, he wiped his shirt sleeve across his sweaty brow, and noticed that Minas Tirith was now bathed in bright summer sunlight. There was not a wisp of cloud to be seen, so that the city stood out brilliantly white against the deep blue sky. The White City was indeed appropriately named! He could understand the thrill of it coming into sight that Boromir had spoken about when he mentioned his returning home all those months ago. Sadly Boromir had never made it home again, but it was an honor to be part of the effort to beautify the city that his lost companion had once loved.
Still if he were perfectly honest with himself, the young elf had to admit that he was personally pretty weary of looking at unending stone. It was a pleasure to be near green and growing things, even if it was only a small patch of land on the sixth level of the city. It was wonderful to be in the fresh air and dig in the cool earth, and it was made even better by the fact that he was doing all these things without someone watching him!
This was the first day in over three weeks that he had been out of sight of his dwarven guardian, for Gimli had meant it quite literally when he had dictated that penalty after what Legolas now thought of as “the pipe weed incident”. He could not deny that it had been a fair sanction considering the long list of rules that he and Faramir had broken and the number of direct orders they had disobeyed, but still it had been extremely trying!
Well perhaps ‘extremely trying’ was a slight exaggeration, for after the first three days it hadn’t been as bad as he had feared it would be. The first few days were difficult, though, for Gimli had spent two of them holed up in their shared suite, sketching plans and scribbling notes and had hardly looked up even to speak to Legolas at all other than to thank him for the tea he had poured for him a few times throughout the day. Gimli hadn’t even left their quarters for meals, but had food sent up. The only people Legolas saw for the first two days, other than Gimli, were the servants who brought food to them. He thought he now knew how prisoners felt! Admittedly, the first day, he hadn’t minded much, for he was still exhausted and even a little stiff and sore from the events of the day before, not to mention the fact that he was not keen to run into all the people who had been involved in the search for him and his friend. There was hardly a soul anywhere within the Citadel or anywhere on the sixth level that had not been involved.
On day two, though, he had felt a bit better and the monotony of watching Gimli’s tedious work and listening to him grunt distracted, one-word responses outweighed the embarrassment of facing the public. That day had been torturously long, though it was nothing in comparison to day three when Gimli had finally left their quarters to conduct interviews and choose the men who would be part of the team to repair the main gate. Legolas had been made to sit next to his guardian as he spoke to the men, and his being there had been so obviously superfluous that he had been certain that everyone knew that he was in disgrace and being punished like a misbehaving child. Gimli hadn’t been very sympathetic either, telling him when he muttered a complaint, that if he didn’t wish to be treated like a naughty elfling, he shouldn’t behave like one. That was the worst day of all.
After that, though, things improved considerably. The next day, Gimli had begun the actual work on the gates and Legolas, along with the men and dwarves hired for the job, had been given the task of helping with sorting through the damaged stone and metal and deciding what could be repurposed for the new gates and what needed to be removed from the area and then there was measuring and marking where the wall extension and the gates posts were to go. Having something practical to do went a long way in making the days easier, and at least he was outside.
Admittedly it had been actually quite interesting sometime later once the smithies had begun forming some of the panels for the gate itself. Gimli was overseeing the task, but he couldn’t seem to resist working in the forges himself, which meant that Legolas was forced to be there as well. . At first he feared it would be as it had been interviewing the crew, and he would have nothing to do but be conspicuously in the way, but Gimli had asked him to work the bellows for him, and then had taken the time to teach him how to heat and shape the metal and work it into an ornate design. In spite of the heat of the forge, he had actually enjoyed forming the beautiful metal into ornate designs.
Gimli, had even complimented him on his quick learning and on his artistic eye, and had asked if he would like to take part in carving the final details into the completed structure along with the other artist who had been hired for the task.
“Do I even have a choice?” was the elf’s sardonic grumble, though he was secretly pleased with the praise from his guardian.
“Of course you have a choice,” Gimli had replied. “The final artwork will not be added until the end of the project, which will be weeks from now. By then, if you behave, which I know you will, you will be free to do whatever you like. Within reason of course.”
Leoglas had only sighed in response, for the two of them seldom agreed on what was “within reason” for him to do, but it cheered him up a little that Gimli was at least talking about an end to his close confinement, for which he had not yet been given an end date. Besides, he thought he would very much like to work on adding the finishing touches to the main gate, if it was his own choice to do so.
“I’d be happy to help if I am able,” he said, a little wistfully. Gimli frowned and gave him an oddly contemplative look making him wonder if his guardian was displeased with him again.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, making Gimli chuckle
“Nay, Lamb, not a thing. It is just…ah never mind for now. We will talk later. For now we have a job to complete!”
It wasn’t until much later that night that Legolas finally found out what it was that Gimli had been about to say. The two of them had come in for the evening hot and dusty from a long day in the forges and Legolas had just finished a hot soak in the sunken tub in their quarters. He took his time with it since the bathing chamber was the one and only exception to his constantly being within his guardian’s sight, and even then Gimli had only been just in the next room.
Fortunately Gimli had been quite lenient and hadn’t complained when he spent far longer than strictly necessary there. Had Legolas known all the facts of the matter, he might have been quite indignant, for the bald truth was that Gimli considered those times apart a blessing as well. The dwarf had not really considered how hard it would be on himself to have his charge at his side constantly. The constant sighing and groaning while he was attempting to draw out the plans for the gates had been trying to say the least as was the put upon expression during the interviews. Still having made the decree he had to live with it or be seen as a pushover. Promises needed to be kept even when they were unpleasant ones for order to exist between them, even though at first Gimli felt like he was being punished as much as his elfling was. Things had gotten better once the actual work had begun, and Gimli began to enjoy their time together. But since Legolas had no idea his guardian felt so, and in fact assumed Gimli, and all parental figures, got some kind of pleasure from spoiling his fun, so he felt fortunate to have the unquestioned extra time in the bath.
He stayed until the water had gone tepid and then took his time towel drying his hair, and then finally came out to join his guardian, who happened to be sitting on the balcony watching the night sky. Legolas was about to sit at his feet as per his usual habit, for he often chose the floor over furniture for sitting, but when Gimli caught sight of him he moved over and patted the bench beside him, so Legolas settled in next to him, and then leaned into his side when Gimli put an arm around him. For a while Gimli said nothing, but just stroked the elf’s drying hair, something that Legolas took a great deal of comfort in. It was a tender action that Gimli never failed to perform, even when he was thoroughly put out with his charge, and it was soothing to know that no matter how much disgrace Legolas was in at any given moment, his guardian still had deep affection for him. Legolas closed his eyes and leaned into the hand like a lanky blond cat, and was just beginning to drift off when Gimli’s voice interrupted.
“I wanted to speak to you, lamb, before we turn in for the evening.”
Automatically Legolas felt a small flutter of nervousness in his gut, for even though Gimli did not seem upset, those words sounded a little dire. He hoped he hadn't inadvertently offended his guardian. Still it was better to find out right away.
“Have I done something wrong?” he asked for the second time in one day, only this time Gimli did not laugh. Instead he knit his brows together as if in concern.
“Of course not!” he said, “and their is no need to keep asking. If you do something I do not approve of I will not keep you in the dark about it, but will tell you right away so you can avoid accidentally stumbling into trouble. I am not continually examining your every word and action seeking to catch you making a mistake so I can punish you for it. We are on the same side here, I promise. You need to relax, my lad.”
Legolas let out a relieved breath.
“I will try,” he promised, and then added when Gimli seemed unconvinced, “I will, I swear!”
“Good lad,” Gimli said. “See that you do. Now may I go on with what I wanted to say to begin with?”
“Oh! Yes, please,” Legolas said, “what did you wish to talk about?”
“It is just that I am concerned about you,” he raised a hand when Legolas tensed again, “not because you are doing anything wrong, but because you seem…well…not yourself. Is anything wrong? You are not unwell are you?”
“I am perfectly fine,” Legolas said, “I have not enjoyed every single moment of our time together lately, but I am not meant to am I?”
“Well, not exactly,” Gimli agreed. “Staying within my sight is a fitting penalty considering your earlier actions proved you were were either not ready or not willing to follow rules set for your own welfare without being watched. It is not meant to be fun! Still I have tried not to keep you confined indoors or make it too difficult for you, and I assume you will not repeat your naughtiness, will you?”
Blushing at the use of the word, Legolas shook his head.
“Then you can be assured that your confinement will soon pass and then nothing more will need to be said about your past mistakes,” Gimli continued, “You understand that do you not?”
“I know, Elvellon. I am not worried about that,” Legolas said, and he really meant it, for one thing he knew about his guardian was that he never held a grudge once he had had his say on a matter.
“I only wanted you to seriously consider your past errors and how you can avoid them in future, I do not wish you to be overly upset or unhappy, and yet you seem rather out of sorts. It makes me wonder if there was more to this little forbidden jaunt of yours than you have told me already. I do understand that you wanted to surprise me with the pipeweed, but it seems like an awfully long chance you took for so little reward. So tell me, Legolas, what were you really thinking?”
Legolas thought about that for a moment, unsure if he could explain exactly what had been on his mind at the time, for he was hardly sure himself. it wasn’t as if he had spent weeks contemplating leaving the city in order to find pipe weed. It had been an impulsive decision, made in a moment when he had just been enjoying the small freedom of being released from a torturously long meeting to play an impromptu game of netball with the young men of the White City. Perhaps he had wanted that feeling of release and relief to continue a little longer before duty called him back to another monotonous task. Thinking on it now he realized he had been feeling somewhat smothered by the rules he was expected to follow, especially when it came to freedom of movement. Logically he knew he was not being singled out for such treatment, for Minas Tirith was a city that had been recently under siege and was still recovering from the brutalities of war. Everyone had been cautioned to exercise care when leaving the city and to only do so for necessary purposes. But the young elf did not always make decisions based on logic. In truth he had been rather resentful of the strict limitations set upon him. He had longed to do something new and exciting and to break free from what sometimes felt like a prison sentence.
In fact, the feeling had not begun in Minas Tirith, but had started at home in Eryn Lasgalen where he had been kept on a very short leash after the war. It had taken his father a long session with multiple counselors that resulted in a royal proclamation complete with a long list of stipulations before he was even allowed to be escorted by six experienced guards directly to his dwarven guardian in the White City.
He should not have been surprised he knew, for he had broken a trust by going off on such a dangerous mission without leave from his father, for he knew very well that had he asked, permission would have been succinctly denied. But even knowing he had no right to complain had done little to remove his frustration, for he had gotten a taste of the outside world during his travels, and now he wanted to see more of it. Even after how poorly things had turned on his clandestine jaunt to the Anduin and back, he still felt so. Besides that he had felt the need to rest his eyes on something other than endless white stone for a while. He needed to feel a part of nature and to commune with green and growing things, even if they had been damaged by war.
Yes it had likely been a variety of things that had lead him to convince Faramir to join him on their ill fated adventure, but could he explain any of them to Gimli and expect any sort of understanding? One look at Gimli’s kind face and understanding eyes assured him that he could. If only he could find the words.
“I…that is…it is hard to explain,” Legolas lamely offered. But Gimli was gently insistent.
“Try Lamb,” the dwarf encouraged him. “You can tell me anything you know, and I will not interrupt you while you have your say.”
It took some coaxing, for Legolas did not want Gimli to think he was some moody adolescent full of complaints about his lot in life, but eventually he was able to express how stifled he had been feeling since the war’s end. True to his word, Gimli had let him talk himself out without commentary, only nodding from time to time to prove he was listening.
“Of course, I should not complain,” Legolas ended, “not when others are suffering so much from the affects of war. But you asked and …”
Not knowing what else to say, Legolas simply shrugged and sighed, wishing he could explain better what he meant. Gimli didn’t seem to need further explanation, though, for his expression was thoroughly sympathetic and thoughtful.
“The suffering of others does not make your concerns invalid,” Gimli pointed out, “though I wish you had told me sooner. Had you just confided in me to begin with you would have saved yourself heaps of trouble. Did you not think I would do my best to help you?”
Legolas shrugged again.
“I know you would have tried, but you still would have prevented me leaving the city with Faramir.”
“If you mean I would have prevented you being accosted by drunks and attacked by bandits and then almost being buried alive in a half caved in tunnel, then yes you are correct. What you did was dangerous and foolish!” Here Gimli lifted his elfling’s chin so that he had to look into the dwarf’s concerned ebony eyes. “But I would have done what I could to help you. I want you to enjoy your time here in the city and to get to explore it thoroughly, just in a safe manner. There is only one small section of the city you were meant to avoid completely. Anything else you wanted to do would have been fine with me, as long as you informed me where you were going and didn’t go off alone. Even a trip outside to the River could have been arranged if you had let me know that was what you wanted. It is not my goal to spoil your fun, but I cannot be expected to read your mind. You have to speak up, Lad.”
“I am sorry, Gimli, I…” Legolas began, but a little shake of his chin stopped him finishing the thought.
“Do not apologize again, Legolas. You have done so already, and I believed you meant it then. I do not want you to be sorry. I want you to tell me what you need, even if you think I won’t understand. I may not, but I promise to at least try to. Is that plain?”
“Yes, Elvellon, it is plain and I will do my best. I am not sure I deserve your forbearance. I could not ask for a more understanding guardian.”
“Ah well, enough of that,” Gimli said, and Legolas was certain he was blushing a bit under his beard. “As long as we understand one another, that is good enough for me. Now off to bed with you. We have a long, busy day planned again tomorrow.”
Only the next day hadn’t been so long after all, for Gimli spent the morning organizing the work at the gates and then left his first foreman in charge and took the rest of the day off to spend it exploring the shops that had been recently reopened on the third level. All the new storefronts and fresh paint, along with the excitement of the merchants who were able to get back to business gave that part of the city a festival atmosphere. Between the newly decorated shops, food hawkers sold their wares and the dwarf insisted on trying everything from the savory meat pies to the sugar floss and spiced cider. Once Legolas pointed out that Gimli had work he must want to be doing, but he was promptly told to hold his impertinent tongue.
“I will do what I wish with my time, young elf, and it is not your place to say what I need to be doing! You will join me or pay the consequences. You have not yet been freed from my side, so stay close or else.”
Legolas had laughed at that, for Gimli was paying for and handing him some sort of human concoction that was made of deep fried bread dough covered in cinnamon and sugar. It was still hot from the grease, and very pleasant to taste, a far nicer way to spend the day than watching his guardian draw sketches for walls and gates.
Another half day had the two of them spending the afternoon together joining some security sweeps of the area outside the city. Nothing of interest had been found, but it was wonderful to be out riding in the open air and enjoying the recovering land.
Some evenings had been spent with Gimli watching him take part in wrestling training with Faramir. Aragorn and decided Faramir could benefit from such training considering the trouble they’d had fending off the huge men at the Shades. He believed Faramir needed to learn more about close contact defense. Gimli had given Legolas the option of joining in as well, and Legolas had decided to do so, partly because he enjoyed the athletic nature of it, and partly because he wished to spend some time with his friend, who he hadn’t really seen too much of since their adventure with the pipe weed. They had shared a few evening meals with him, Aragorn and Arwen, but the wrestling lessons were a chance to blow of some steam as well as see Faramir. He hadn’t really thought he could learn much from the human trainers, but surprisingly they had many good tips on how to use his opponents’ weight against them by diving for their feet or knees, and how to strike under the nose, at the temple, throat or finger tips to bring down even a much stronger attacker.
Legolas knew that Gimli was taking time from his own schedule to do these things just to make his punishment less arduous, though he couldn’t quite puzzle out the reason why. A punishment was not meant to be pleasant, and yet his guardian had gone out of his way to soften his without retracting it completely.
What he did not know was that Gimli, having discovered the real reason behind his charge’s earlier disobedience, meant to keep him busy and happy as possible. It would do no good to go through with a long drawn out punishment if the elfling ended up feeling more stifled than ever and went off on another frustrated jag the minute he was set free. The goal was to keep the youngster safe and out of trouble, not to harshly penalize him. All that would accomplish is to make the lad resent him and be even less likely to confide his troubles in the future, which did no one any good at all. Gimli’s mother, who Gimli had gone to for advice on occasion, had told him that there was no such thing as being too understanding when it came dealing with adolescents, who were actually more delicate in some ways than newborns. Part of his job was to keep his young charge safe, aye, but another part was to make sure he was happy. The lad deserved it after all he had been through for the majority of his youth. It took some time out of Gimli’s busy schedule to do so, but he took his duty very seriously and did not resent the interruption.
In fact one evening he had timed their evening walk to coincide with when he suspected that Faramir and Aragorn would be coming home from visiting the families of one of the lost Rangers. He knew that Legolas had been missing the time he usually got to spend with the young man so decided it would do them good to spend a little time together outside of the wrestling matches. He was very glad he had done so for another reason, for poor Faramir , when they saw him, had looked completely stricken, even though Aragorn walked next to him with a comforting arm around his shoulders, while a few guards trailed behind them. But Faramir’s face had lit up at the sight of his erstwhile partner in crime, and soon they were talking and laughing together as they walked back up through the levels of the city. Faramir had managed to talk the King into foregoing the usual evening meal with his wife in favor of trying one of the inns that had just reopened for business. It had been Faramir’s favorite before the the war had shut it down. Fish and chips was the only thing on the menu, but having one specialty evidently meant the cook had perfected the dish, for all four of them ate with considerable gusto and then chased the meal with a pint of very nice ale. Gimli felt it was well worth the extra effort it took make sure his lad got to enjoy these little experiences, even if he had to do so within Gimli’s sight for a while in order for the dwarf to technically carry out his word.
Whether her understood the reasons for it or not, Legolas appreciated the kindness, and it had been like a spoonful of sugar to help swallow bitter medicine. Still it was even better to be free from any sort of penalty at all and he was very much enjoying his day alone.
He had volunteered to design the gardens of Minas Tirith and had sent for a small company of elves to help with the project. They had not yet arrived, but that had not stopped him from doing what he could with a few human volunteers. Human volunteers who were currently working far enough away that he felt truly independent, though he was not technically alone which should satisfy Gimli’s over protective sanctions. His guardian insisted that he not wander the city alone, for there were, according to Gimli, some rough characters about who might be dangerous in their desperation after the war and many who may not be in their right minds. Legolas stood out in this human city and there were those who were up in arms over Aragorn’s choice for a queen, which made it possibly that some might take their anger out on him just because of his pointy ears. And it was true enough that there had been some snide comments made when he entered a room or passed a crowd, though Legolas had not ever felt in any particular danger. His feeling safe, however, did nothing to ease his guardian’s worry, so it was easier just to comply rather than try to argue. Arguing only ever ended with a stinging rump and a disgruntled guardian stuck to his side, so he had learned to follow the path of least resistance and always have someone at least nearby who he could claim to be with him.
He wasn’t sure Gimli would agree that the humans, who were within calling distance, but not in sight were actual companions, but it did not matter for long, because it was only half an hour or so before he was joined by someone else. Legolas was so involved in digging up weeds that he never heard the other person come upon him, and only looked up when a shadow fell over him.
“Need some help?” Faramir asked, a severe frown marring his fair features. It was a surprise to see Faramir out of his office this time of day, and more of a surprise to see him without the serene expression he usually wore.
“If you like,” Legolas agreed, offering his friend a trowel and a small rake. He hadn’t wanted company, but Faramir was an exception. His friend was not likely to give the impression that he needed watching or protecting and from the mood he seemed to be in in, he wasn’t likely to bombard him with chatter either. In fact he couldn’t really imagine what had brought Faramir outside when he should be working, as he was normally very diligent about his duties, but Legolas wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask just at the moment.
“I had no idea you liked gardening,” Legolas lightly commented, trying to gauge Faramir’s mood.
“I’m not particularly fond of it, but I could use some physical exercise,” Faramir explained, rather dourly.
“It’s not much exercise,” Legolas pointed out. “I”m only pulling weeds.”
“Whatever.” Faramir shrugged. “Just show me how to do it.”
“How to pull weeds?” Legolas gave him an odd look. Who didn’t know how to pull weeds? “You pull them up and put them in a pile. It’s pretty self explanatory, Faramir.”
Faramir didn’t answer, but he simply fell to his knees and began yanking viciously and hurling the pulled weeds into the pile with unnecessary force. Legolas watched him for a while, and finally ventured to ask,
“Is anything wrong Faramir?”
“Bad day,” Faramir growled, but gave no further explanation, but Legolas was not quite prepared to settle for that answer.
“What happened?”
“It’s a long boring story, Legolas,” Faramir snapped, as he continued his murderous rampage on the poor dandelions. Without looking up he added, “Herion, please tell Aragorn I will be helping Legolas for the rest of the day.”
For the first time, Legolas noticed Herion, Faramir’s squire, standing a little way off as if he was not too keen to come close. He seemed almost relieved to be sent away. He exchanged a look with Legolas, and then nodded and hurried away.
Legolas went back to work, occasionally glancing sideways at his crotchety, friend trying to figure out what could possibly have happened to have the normally even-tempered young man so irritated. He was just trying to form another question when Faramir suddenly stretched out his bent back and then tossed aside his tunic and pulled his undershirt over his head as well. Legolas found himself staring at his friend in shock.
“It’s hot,” Faramir explained, but it was not the fact that he had removed his shirt that had stunned the elf, but the dark bruises in the clear shape of a handprint that encircled his upper arm. Tossing his own trowel aside, he grabbed his friend by the wrist to stop his movement and examined the arm.
“Who did this to you?” Legolas demanded.
When Faramir didn't answer right away, Legolas repeated his question.
“I can see it is a hand print, Faramir. Who did it?”
Faramir sighed.
“It was Lord Tarsten of Lebennin,” Faramir admitted.
“That beady-eyed fellow, with the pointed nose? Why would he do that to you?”
“That’s the one. He was not best pleased that I refused to join him and some others in petitioning for Aragorn to raise the tariff on goods from Harad.”
“So he thought injuring you would make you change your mind?”
“Not exactly,” Faramir said. “I explained why I could not do what he wanted, he got angry and grabbed my arms and shook me in his rage. It was not that big a deal.”
“What do you mean not a big deal?” Legolas demanded. “Of course it’s a big deal! He had no right to lay a hand on you! You shouldn’t have to deal with physical abuse during political discussions. Just having to look at his ugly face and listening to his whiny voice is grueling enough. You should tell Aragorn.”
With that Legolas began packing away his tools, intent on going straight to the King. Faramir had different ideas, and yanked the trowel back out of his friend’s hand.
“We are not bothering Aragorn with such a trivial matter. He has too many more important things to deal with, ” he said. “Besides there is a lot of weeding to do.”
“Bugger the weeding!” Legolas was livid, and insistent, but he could see by Faramir’s expression that this was one of those times his friend was going to be impossibly stubborn. He changed tactics.
“If you won’t tell Aragorn, then let’s at least go talk to Gimli and see what he has to say.”
“Gimli is also busy.”
“True, but it’s nearly dark, and I happen to know he will be heading back to our quarters about now, and all he intends to do this evening is enjoy a meal in our rooms and drink a mug or two of ale. He says he is too tired after a day in the hot sun to dress up and join Aragorn and Arwen for dinner. He will be pleased to see you.”
“If he is tired, then I should not bother him…” Faramir attempted, but Legolas was stubborn too.
“He will be happy to see you, Faramir, and he is never too busy for the concerns of a friend.”
“But I am not that concerned,” Faramir pointed out.
Legolas grasped Faramir firmly by the wrist, confiscated his trowel and then pulled him to his feet.
“You may not be concerned, but I am. Now come on!”