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Title: Leaf and Stone
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien
Author: Zdenka
Rating: G
Challenge: #57, song titles: Bruce Springsteen ("My City of Ruins")
Characters and Ships: Gimli, hinted pre-relationship Gimli/Legolas
Warnings: none
Word Count: 758
Notes: Also written for fffc Winter Calendar for the prompt "ruined decorations". / Elrond rescued and took in the survivors of Eregion on his way to establish what would become Rivendell (according to the LOTR appendices and Unfinished Tales). I like the idea that some craftspeople from the Gwaith-i-Mírdain were trusted friends in Khazad-dûm and could have worked with their Dwarvish colleagues on some of the decorations there . . . and then maybe a few of the same artists, or those trained by them, survived to bring their style to Rivendell.
Summary: Gimli notices something that surprises him in the carvings of Khazad-dûm.
Gimli walked with firm strides through the halls of Khazad-dûm. There was good stone under his feet, and he could hear the deep song of the mountain all around him. It grieved him that the lofty halls stood deserted. Save for the dim light of Gandalf’s staff, everything was dark and empty; a layer of dust covered the floor, and the only sound was the echo of their footsteps, when it should have resounded with his people’s voices, their songs, and the ringing of hammers. It was like walking through a tomb—or no, this place was not dead, but sleeping. Yet if Balin and his company had not awakened the habitation of Durin’s folk, how long would it still remain shrouded in dust and silence?
Gimli tried to take in as much as he could with all his senses, to be able to remember and tell of it afterwards. Not only with his eyes and ears, but the feel of the stone against his boots, the sense of greater or narrower space around him; even the musty scent of the air, and the taste of it on his tongue—this too must be remembered. And there was much to see. Every arch, every pillar and doorway was carved with extraordinary skill by Dwarvish hands—and it was plain to see that they had worked with love of their craft and of their home in their hearts. Gimli took note also of the carvings and stone ornamentation as they passed, regretting that he could not linger to look at them more closely. The safety of his companions must come first; yet if he had been alone, he thought that he could not have resisted the urge to admire the beauty and skill of every carving, no matter what the danger.
Gandalf led them through the halls and passages, with Gimli next behind him. Gimli could hear the others behind him, from the light steps of the Hobbits to Boromir’s heavy tread. Aragorn and Boromir walked without speaking, accompanied by the jingle of their mail and the creak of leather. From time to time, the Hobbits spoke to each other in low voices, Pippin’s voice louder than the others. Legolas’s steps were as silent on the stone as when he walked over grass; Gimli could not tell where he was by sound, which disquieted him a little. But he supposed the Elf wouldn’t be tempted to linger here, in halls of stone.
Gimli frowned darkly when he saw that some of the carved decoration on the walls had been deliberately smashed with crude force—the work of Orcs, no doubt. But higher up, above the height an Orc’s club could reach, the carvings stood intact; they were only a little worn by time. They must have been magnificent indeed in the full light of many lamps, the hall shining with light. Some of the lamp brackets still remained, though bent or twisted, but the lamps themselves were gone.
They passed onward into another hall, and here the style of the stonework changed. Instead of the more angular style of the previous halls, Gimli saw vines with curving tendrils, adorned with delicate leaves and flowers. It didn’t look to him like Dwarvish work—he almost thought it looked Elvish. Like the trees on the Doors of Durin through which they had entered, or stonework he had seen in Rivendell.
An Elf working on the Doors was one thing—though even that was a sign of much trust—but it was stranger still to find Elvish work here, in the heart of the Durin’s kingdom. Gimli tried to imagine it—the tall and slender forms of Elves perched in the scaffolding together with Dwarvish stone-carvers, trading suggestions and tools back and forth. Somehow his mind substituted an image of himself and Legolas for those long-ago craftsmen. He shook his head to clear it. Could an Elf even hear the song of the stone? And yet, Legolas had spoken of hearing the stones’ voice in Hollin. Fair they wrought us, high they builded us. Perhaps it was not impossible.
Gimli turned it over in his mind as he walked. He would like to ask Legolas about it, he thought. When they were safely through Khazad-dûm, when there was a calm moment without danger—if such a moment came again on this journey—if the Elf was willing, Gimli thought he might like to spend some time speaking of Dwarvish and Elvish craftsmanship, of the beauty to be found in leaf and stone.
Also here on AO3
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien
Author: Zdenka
Rating: G
Challenge: #57, song titles: Bruce Springsteen ("My City of Ruins")
Characters and Ships: Gimli, hinted pre-relationship Gimli/Legolas
Warnings: none
Word Count: 758
Notes: Also written for fffc Winter Calendar for the prompt "ruined decorations". / Elrond rescued and took in the survivors of Eregion on his way to establish what would become Rivendell (according to the LOTR appendices and Unfinished Tales). I like the idea that some craftspeople from the Gwaith-i-Mírdain were trusted friends in Khazad-dûm and could have worked with their Dwarvish colleagues on some of the decorations there . . . and then maybe a few of the same artists, or those trained by them, survived to bring their style to Rivendell.
Summary: Gimli notices something that surprises him in the carvings of Khazad-dûm.
Gimli walked with firm strides through the halls of Khazad-dûm. There was good stone under his feet, and he could hear the deep song of the mountain all around him. It grieved him that the lofty halls stood deserted. Save for the dim light of Gandalf’s staff, everything was dark and empty; a layer of dust covered the floor, and the only sound was the echo of their footsteps, when it should have resounded with his people’s voices, their songs, and the ringing of hammers. It was like walking through a tomb—or no, this place was not dead, but sleeping. Yet if Balin and his company had not awakened the habitation of Durin’s folk, how long would it still remain shrouded in dust and silence?
Gimli tried to take in as much as he could with all his senses, to be able to remember and tell of it afterwards. Not only with his eyes and ears, but the feel of the stone against his boots, the sense of greater or narrower space around him; even the musty scent of the air, and the taste of it on his tongue—this too must be remembered. And there was much to see. Every arch, every pillar and doorway was carved with extraordinary skill by Dwarvish hands—and it was plain to see that they had worked with love of their craft and of their home in their hearts. Gimli took note also of the carvings and stone ornamentation as they passed, regretting that he could not linger to look at them more closely. The safety of his companions must come first; yet if he had been alone, he thought that he could not have resisted the urge to admire the beauty and skill of every carving, no matter what the danger.
Gandalf led them through the halls and passages, with Gimli next behind him. Gimli could hear the others behind him, from the light steps of the Hobbits to Boromir’s heavy tread. Aragorn and Boromir walked without speaking, accompanied by the jingle of their mail and the creak of leather. From time to time, the Hobbits spoke to each other in low voices, Pippin’s voice louder than the others. Legolas’s steps were as silent on the stone as when he walked over grass; Gimli could not tell where he was by sound, which disquieted him a little. But he supposed the Elf wouldn’t be tempted to linger here, in halls of stone.
Gimli frowned darkly when he saw that some of the carved decoration on the walls had been deliberately smashed with crude force—the work of Orcs, no doubt. But higher up, above the height an Orc’s club could reach, the carvings stood intact; they were only a little worn by time. They must have been magnificent indeed in the full light of many lamps, the hall shining with light. Some of the lamp brackets still remained, though bent or twisted, but the lamps themselves were gone.
They passed onward into another hall, and here the style of the stonework changed. Instead of the more angular style of the previous halls, Gimli saw vines with curving tendrils, adorned with delicate leaves and flowers. It didn’t look to him like Dwarvish work—he almost thought it looked Elvish. Like the trees on the Doors of Durin through which they had entered, or stonework he had seen in Rivendell.
An Elf working on the Doors was one thing—though even that was a sign of much trust—but it was stranger still to find Elvish work here, in the heart of the Durin’s kingdom. Gimli tried to imagine it—the tall and slender forms of Elves perched in the scaffolding together with Dwarvish stone-carvers, trading suggestions and tools back and forth. Somehow his mind substituted an image of himself and Legolas for those long-ago craftsmen. He shook his head to clear it. Could an Elf even hear the song of the stone? And yet, Legolas had spoken of hearing the stones’ voice in Hollin. Fair they wrought us, high they builded us. Perhaps it was not impossible.
Gimli turned it over in his mind as he walked. He would like to ask Legolas about it, he thought. When they were safely through Khazad-dûm, when there was a calm moment without danger—if such a moment came again on this journey—if the Elf was willing, Gimli thought he might like to spend some time speaking of Dwarvish and Elvish craftsmanship, of the beauty to be found in leaf and stone.
Also here on AO3
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