Comes Around Again (Gigolas & Bagginshield)

Beginnings and Endings

There was much more said after the choosing of the Nine, of the history of the ring, of the might of Mordor. Gimli and Legolas both spoke of what they could remember of the perils that faced their own quest, and of those that faced Sam and Frodo as they passed into Mordor, where no living being whowas not orc had ever passed through and lived.

"I know not more," Gimli said at length, "though I know there is more to know. Neither the ringbearer nor his companion would speak much of it in the days or weeks following, and while their accounts of their times were written in a great red ledger..." Gimli sighed. "It was not an account I could ever bring myself to read with much attention." It was one matter to know that his dear friends suffered, and quite another to see the account of their suffering in their own words.

At length the council ended and the chambers emptied save for Gimli, Legolas, the sons of Dís, and the members of the new fellowship.

Bilbo had reclaimed the ring, fairly snatching it from the rock and shoving it into the pocket of his coat. He, like the rest of the company, was still dressed in the clothing he had obtained in Laketown, and his hands fit deep into his pockets. He stood for a long while, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his elbow tight to his side, before Thorin placed a hand on his shoulder. Bilbo turned towards him and Thorin opened his arms, pulling Bilbo into a comforting embrace, resting his cheek on Bilbo's head. He spoke soft words that Bilbo could not hear, but Legolas turned his head as if to give them privacy.

Therefore Gimli turned to this new company, studying them with a frown. He crossed his arms. "Some of you I have met before," he nodded at Glorfindel, who grinned widely at him, "though I admit I know you not well. Others I have either seen and we have not spoken, or you are altogether new to me." He bowed at the three new members of the company. "I am Gimli, son of Glóin. At your service."

Legolas stepped forward. "I may offer some assistance, as one has been long known to me, and another I have met more recently. This," Legolas raised a hand, and the dark skinned elf nodded, "is Curuleador. I have known him most of my life, as he has long served my father's house."

Curuleador placed his fist upon his breast in the manner of the elves, and bowed shallowly—a mark of respect to a being of higher rank. Gimli contained his surprise; it was rare for an elf to recognize the rankings of the dwarves for any but the royal family.

"Long have I fought against the darkness of this world, wherever that road has taken me," he said, and his voice was softer than Gimli would have expected. Yet, there was a brightness to his eyes, a keen sense of the world around him, that turned that softness in a wry awareness that could, in an instant, become dry amusement or cutting rebuke. He looked at Legolas, raising an eyebrow. "Often it has taken me deep in the Greenwood, chasing all sorts of wild creatures."

Legolas, to Gimli's amazement, flushed. "I was young, and had not yet developed a stomach for strong spirits," he muttered, and Gimli bit his lip. "And this, I know, is Dulcan, captain under Bard of the guardsmen of Laketown."

"I'm pretty sure that title no longer exists," Dulcan said, sounding more than a little tired. "Safer to say my job is to keep Bard from dropping from sheer exhaustion. However, my relief seems to have arrived, and I may take time to do what needs done." He snorted, crossing his arms. "Besides, if I hadn't volunteered he would have, and he's needed here."

Gandalf frowned. "This is not a journey to take for another's sake."

"Is it not?" Curuleador said, much to Dulcan's surprise. "I can think of no nobler reason than to act out of love for another."

It was enough to make Gandalf pause, but Gimli did not know if that was because of what Curuleador had said, or that he spoke in defense of Dulcan.

Dulcan cleared his throat. "Exactly that," he said. He put his hand on the shoulder of the final member of their company. "This here is Brig." Brig, a bright haired woman, curtseyed to them, but the motion was stilted and out of practice. Standing, Brig was nearly as tall as Dulcan, taller than Mannish women tended to be, and broad shouldered. "Brig here is one of the finest sailors I've ever seen, and knows the river like none other."