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On
the Edge of a Dream
by Marina
Category: Interspecies, Point of View
Characters: Legolas Gimli
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Someone can't sleep.
Disclaimer: These characters belonng to JRRT. My humble writings
are just a sign of respect and admiration.
Feedback: Oh yes, please do.
Story Notes: A big thank you to Pythoness and Amy for help.
I should be sleeping. We ran for hours yesterday, and we'll
run again tomorrow. The orcs are getting away and we can't
really afford to stop for the night, only it's impossible to go
so long without any rest. I should be sleeping now, but I can't.
Or maybe I can't wake up. All those days since Lothlorien I
walk around as in a dream. Everything's still enchanted: I left
the elves' land, but it's still with me. He said that the memory
would be my reward. Such an elven thing to say, too. But I think
I'm beginning to understand this. My memory's like a mirror,
true - but some days I feel like I'm surrounded by this mirror,
nearly living in it.
I wonder what would my father say if he knew what I'm
thinking. Something about dwarves and elves not mixing well,
probably. Oh, our family was never very vindictive. Plenty of
dwarves still can't talk about Nauglamir. Not so with us, but
... to each his own. Dwarves in the caves, elves in the forest
and so on. I used to think the same.
But now... I'm changed. And it's not the end, I'm changing
still. Well, some things, of course, stay the same. I always
looked for beauty, pursued beauty. I'm a dwarf - if we see
something beautiful, we want to keep it. It used to be simple.
What can be more natural than admiring someone's craftwork, or
treasures found under our mountains? These are the things in our
blood.
But can this be enough? I'm not meant to live my life under
the mountain, not any more. Oh, I miss home, true. Who doesn't?
I try to imagine it, try to make the memory calm me. Only I
can't trust my memory any more. Where my eye should see sharp
and clear lines of good dwarven work, now mists and pastels
appear.
That mirror of Galadriel's - I never thought to see it. I was
always taught that elven magic is better left alone. And then
she brought me there. Just appeared before me when I sat under
one of those trees and suddenly I knew I had to follow her. So I
did. And saw the mirror. Doesn't matter that much what you see
in it. It's just... it seems to be smooth as a jewel, but it's
not. The ripples start, and all the clarity disappears, and then
you see: of course it's not a jewel, it's just water. Ordinary
water, but not ordinary at the same time.
I probably started to change even before that. I slept in the
houses of elves, I ate with them, but I thought it wasn't about
me. Just another pretty picture to keep in memory.
I didn't notice the picture becoming alive. When did the
elven songs and the elven gardens stop being exotic as a new
jewel and became a thing of necessity, nestled in the stash of
memory that I'll hide to the last days? I never noticed. Before
now. Before Lothlorien.
Boromir was afraid to go into Lothlorien. Maybe I should have
been, too. People like Boromir don't get frightened without
reason. I think he knew that this forest would change our lives
forever, and that was what troubled him. But what use is it to
be afraid? What does Galadriel's mirror show you if not your own
soul and heart? And I'm not the kind of dwarf who is afraid of
himself.
And after looking at yourself in that mirror, there's no
going back. You can't forget the truth and pretend it doesn't
exist. Maybe Men can; they can be anything they want. We dwarves
only can be ourselves.
Do elves even worry about things like that? Do they worry at
all? I look at Legolas, and sometimes I think he's like a mirror
himself: I see only myself and my thoughts reflecting back at me.
What is he really thinking?
Here he stands, and he may as well be far from here. We went
a long way with him, and there is still a longer one to go. We
faced enemies and entered the darkness, and I trusted him to be
there. I trust him - there's no question of it. But do I know
him?
For a moment I thought I did. There in the strange forest
full of elves who stayed out of our eyes, walking with him,
talking, but not really talking - I was sure I knew him better
than any dwarf who worked and played and drank with me.
When we walked around Lothlorien, I didn't think about him
being an elf. It was just him, my companion, someone
surprisingly easy to talk with and at the same time so different
from me that it was a challenge to explore him, to get deeper
into his mind and soul and see what jewels I could find.
And then we parted ways, and I looked at him going up these
damned trees and I was reminded of who he is and who I am. And I
was thinking about him again, only in another way. I was taught
to distrust elves; all dwarves do in some ways. But at the same
time no true dwarf could help being intrigued by their beauty.
Maybe we do something in common, only our races see beauty in
different forms. His is easy to see. He is like a crystal so
well polished by nature that it doesn't even need working over,
just the setting worthy of it for everyone to be enchanted. But
how could he see any beauty in me?
I know what I am like. I'm a fine dwarf, many have told me
that. Does it matter for an elf? Maybe for Legolas all dwarves
are about the same - no distinction between fine and ugly, young
and old, just dwarves.
I don't want to compare myself to him; for some reason it
scares me. I shouldn't compare: we are made of too different
stuff. I keep telling myself this, and usually it is true. I
like the difference; I never met someone like him, and I want to
explore this mine of new possibilities.
By day we are companions and we have our mission and our
roles to play, all is easy and fine, and all obstacles we meet
are good food for a dwarven axe and an elven bow.
But at night... night is his time. Here he stands, off in
that dreamland where all the elves go to. It is fine for him,
but what am I doing tossing and turning, trying to follow him?
No, I really should sleep. No dwarf ever did anything good by
not sleeping at night. I should leave the dreams to Legolas and
go to sleep. Tomorrow will be another day, and there'll
obstacles I can ram through. And dreams? Maybe Legolas will tell
me his sometime. Later. Maybe tomorrow.
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