1. Paying Debts
The black-fletched arrow flew straight and deadly and true; the warg was dead before it even hit the ground, its skull shattered- tiny brain disintegrated in a fountain of foul black blood.
Glóin son of Gróin-who had at that moment been lying helpless beneath the monster's paws- was (to put it bluntly) not entirely amused. Pushing the loathsome beast from off of his prone form and hauling himself to his feet, he stared daggers at his saviour from under the visor of his helmet.
"I s'pose you think that was funny," he rumbled, wiping a spray of vile ichor from his long beard, "I had the stupid beast just where I wanted it."
The Elven marksman merely smiled and shrugged in response.
"Perhaps you should have preferred it had I deliberately fired over the beast's head, master Dwarf?"
Glóin bristled at the joke.
"Were we not surrounded by more worthy foes, I should be happy to teach you a lesson you should never forget, master Elf!"
His saviour raised one sardonic eyebrow and executed a florid bow in response.
"Perhaps one day you can return the favour, master Dwarf- or perhaps your son can, should the task prove too trying for you."
With that, the Elf was gone, springing away to another foe, his blades flashing brilliant death.
Glóin blustered a moment longer, but then another warg was upon him, and the moment was forgotten.
That is not, however, to say it was forgiven...
The axe flew straight and deadly and true, tumbling end over end through the air; the Easterling warrior was dead before he even hit the ground, skull shattered in a splattery fountain of sticky grey brains and bright red blood.
Legolas son of Thranduil- who had at that very moment been lying helpless at the swordman's feet- was (to put it bluntly) not entirely amused. Pushing the dead man off his prone form and springing to his feet, he raised one perfect eyebrow at his saviour, wiping a stray gobbet of gore from his long blonde hair.
"I suppose you think I should thank you for that?"
Gimli grinned savagely as he yanked the axe from the dead swordsman's skull.
"Nay, laddie. Consider it as nothing more than a... as nothing more than a very old favour repaid."
Elf and Dwarf smiled at each other, and there- there and then on the field of the Pelennor (though neither would admit it, even many years later, even when their every action had passed into myth and legend)- something passed unspoken between them.
Gimli was, of course, first to break the silence.
"And of course, it puts me into the lead! Forty-five, Elf!"
With that the Dwarf was gone, springing away to another foe with a savage battle-cry, his axe a whirling crescent of razor-sharp murder bringing death to each and every foe in his path.
Legolas allowed himself a small smile, but then another screaming Easterling warrior was upon him, and the moment was over.
That is not, however, to say it was forgotten…
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.