Elrohir sat next to his brother in the Hall at Helm’s Deep. Looking up he saw the dwarf from the Fellowship smiling at him.
“Gimli, Gloin’s son, at your service.”
“Elrohir, at yours and your family’s.”
“You missed a mighty battle with a mort of killing. I myself have counted forty-two!”
Elrohir felt very confused. “Forty-two?”
Elladan unhelpfully began, “Dagor...?”
“Dagger, axe, whatever weapons it takes in battle.” Gimli leaned on the table. “You are mighty warriors. Have you managed forty-two?”
Elrohir did not remember forty battles as large as Helm’s Deep and certainly not during Gimli’s lifetime. A quick glance at his brother discerned the same bewilderment he felt. How many dwarves facing how many orcs did it take to make a battle in Gimli’s mind? He thought back over his largest skirmishes and the few real battles.
“We might have done forty-five,” he ventured.
“Together, not each,” Elladan added quickly as Gimli’s expression fell.
“Hah!” Gimli pounded the table. “And I’ve got forty-two! Legolas only counts forty-one.” He walked away whistling.
Elrohir raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Legolas said he’d been in forty-one battles?”
There had to be a good story here. As one they rose to find him.
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.